


Just Let Go

by Ytalis6



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dark!Lance, M/M, This gonna get bad y'all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-07-29 15:10:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 53,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7689385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ytalis6/pseuds/Ytalis6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new creation of the Druids starts putting strange thoughts into Lance's head.  Is it possible for him to resist?  And really, does he even want to?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Just Let Go

The serenity of space was a glorious thing to behold; the twisting star systems and twinkling light reflected from thousands of far-off planets created a sort of visual symphony. With unceasing stillness, the cosmic dance of infinite celestial bodies was the only visible change, bringing on a sort of involuntary peace in all those caught within it. Or rather, so it was until about twenty minutes ago.  


“Lance, quit goofing off!” Keith’s voice crackled over the comm system, and was met immediately by laughter. The blinding sights of the Galra lasers flashed in his cockpit, and he felt his Lion get buffeted by the shockwaves of collisions and explosions.  


“I can’t help it!” Lance said back, his smile audible in his voice. “They’re making it too easy, man, it’s like shooting fish in a barrel!” The Blue Lion spun and swerved between the Galra fighters, its tail occasionally lashing out to smack one of their wings, causing them to spin helplessly into each other.  


Despite Lance’s claims, the occupation force on Knolav IV still outnumbered the Voltron Force a good 800 to 1, as Allura saw fit to remind them.  


“Do not let their individual weakness lure you into complacency, Lance!” Allura said, her voice clear and strong over the radio. Lance flinched in his cockpit, uncomfortably reminded of his own mother’s scoldings. It didn’t help that Pidge’s snickering came trailing after.  


“Lance is getting ye~lled at.” Pidge said, her voice dripping with mockery. Her enjoyment was quickly cut off as an explosion rocked her Lion, and a short yell tore out of her throat.  


“Pidge!” Shiro’s voice came through the radio, concerned. The Black Lion immediately broke formation to cover her as she recovered, its fang blade tearing through the nearby Galra fighters. But without the Shiro providing cover, Keith found himself suddenly exposed, forced into evasive maneuvers by a hailstorm of fire from the collected enemy force.  


“I’m blaming you for this, Lance!” Keith said, his words clipped as his Lion barely dodged the array of lasers. Muttering darkly in Spanish, Lance brought his lion around, firing a beam of ice through the enemy formation to provide Keith a respite. It soon proved insufficient as two shots landed true on the Red Lion’s back, sending Keith into a tailspin.  


“Hunk! Cover Keith while he gets himself back in the air. Lance, stay on the offensive, and don’t mess around this time!” Shiro’s voice was stern and filled with notes of barely-repressed anger that Lance knew was directed at him. Oh, this was going to be fun later. But for now, he had targets in front of him, and he could just imagine that they had the faces of his sources of irritation.  


Which was a method that Lance found almost distressingly therapeutic. That fighter that Blue’s claws tore open had Pidge’s obnoxious laugh, that one with a new hole in its cockpit looked like Shiro’s disappointed face, those three over there that Blue’s ice tore through somehow all had Keith’s mullet. What a curious coincidence. But as he flew through the enemy ranks, nearly effortlessly destroying them, all he heard over the radio was chatter of the team ignoring him.  


“Pidge, are you alright? Can you still fly?”  


“I’m still operational Shiro, but the shot came really close to my fuel tanks.”  


“Keith buddy, I’d feel a lot better if you were backing me up!”  


“Gonna be a second Hunk, the shot that Lance let through still has my controls screwed up.”  


Oh, of course. Focus on his mistakes, but no one had a single word for the fact that he was single handedly taking on an entire Galra fleet while they were licking their wounds. Blue’s movements became more aggressive, more focused as Lance’s anger grew, and to no one’s surprise, criticism followed quickly.  


“Lance, be careful! You’re leaving your-”  


“Would you give it a rest, Shiro?!” Lance shot back. “I’m doing the best I can out here, giving all of you time to regroup, so maybe you could all just get off my back?”  


Silence followed on the radio, allowing Lance to focus on the remaining Galra fighters. Including that one weird one that looked different from the others. It was bulkier and moved a bit slower, so Lance decided to have a little fun with it. His tail shot out to grab a nearby fighter, and Lance pondered briefly if Blue’s tail was actually extending or was just longer than he thought, and he flung it towards the weird craft, missing by what couldn’t have been more than a few feet. It did hit several other fighters, so Lance considered that a success.  


The weird fighter just kept getting closer, which Lance found really weird. Even stranger was that the other ships near it had stopped firing, as if for fear that they’d hit it on accident. Whatever was going on, Lance didn’t want to stick around for it. He fired a beam from Blue’s tail, lancing straight through the weird ship, but right as he did the ship’s engines kicked into overdrive and sent it careening straight for Blue.  


Eyes wide with sudden fear, Lance wrenched the controls in an attempt to avoid the flaming craft, but it crashed fully into Blue’s flank, though with far less of an impact than Lance expected. The craft splintered on impact, pieces raining down to the planet below, and Lance found himself surrounded by a smokescreen, but unharmed.  


Lance’s radio crackled ominously before a voice filtered through. “Lance? Lance, come in, are you alright?!” Shiro’s voice came over the radio, equal parts commanding and afraid. Oh sure, now he was worried. Lance scoffed audibly, flying out of the smoke to see the Galra fleet retreating.  


“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said in response, looking in confusion at the retreating Galra force, “What the heck was that all about?” The other Lions flew up to meet him as various confused voices came through the radio.  


“Maybe they decided it wasn’t worth the trouble?” Hunk said, his voice hopeful. Over the radio, Coran made a noise that would have been called a snort in a less dignified man.  


“Extremely unlikely. It’s more reasonable that they accomplished whatever goal they came here for.” Coran said as his image popped up in their cockpits. Allura nodded behind him, her eyes narrowing as she viewed the display in front of them.  


“Return to the Castle, Paladins. The entire Galran force is retreated from this sector, and I need to figure out why.” Allura said, her voice wavering just the slightest bit. Lance wasn’t sure why; sure it was weird, but it wasn’t that weird, right? They won, so what’s the big deal?  


“Will do, Princess. Come on everyone, you heard the Princess.” Shiro said as the Black Lion led the way back. Lance followed suit, but he couldn’t shake the lingering irritation from before. Somehow, he was convinced that if it had been Keith who’d been showing off, everyone would’ve eaten it up.  


The irritation followed him as they flew all the way back to the Castle, which had been parked by a nearby moon to avoid detection by Galra. It was a long flight as a result, most of which was spent enduring Hunk and Pidge’s tech talk as they discussed ways to improve the shielding on the Lions. Lance tuned most of it out, looking at the nearby stars as his Lion flew on autopilot. After a few minutes of flying, he realized that they were trying to get his attention.  


“Hey, Earth to Lance! Do you copy, or are you dozing off in there?” Pidge’s voice seemed particularly annoying today, and Lance’s patience was particularly thin. But something else had caught his attention.  


“You’re not Earth…” He found himself mumbling, still looking at the stars. He caught himself actually searching for anything blue in the blackness, before remembering that they were likely thousands of light-years away.  


“What’s that? Gotta speak up buddy, how am I supposed to make fun of you if I can’t hear you?” Lance’s eyebrow quirked in annoyance, and he caught Pidge’s insufferable smirk out of the corner of his eye.  


“I said, you’re not Earth! And that’s pretty lousy of you to say, since it’s not like any of us will ever hear from Earth again!” Lance shouted into the radio, his face reddened with sudden passion. His outburst was met by complete silence, made much worse by the fact that over the comm screen, he could see all of their faces.  


Pidge’s eyes were wide with shock, but her jaw was set in burgeoning anger. Hunk’s gaze was downcast, as if trying to avoid the fight he knew was coming, while Keith looked like he was still trying to process what just happened. Shiro’s eyes were hard as steel, and fortunately it was him that broke the silence.  


“Alright, that’s enough out of everyone,” Shiro said, cutting through the tension and cutting off Pidge’s inevitable retort. “Let’s just take a minute to calm down; we’ll talk at the Castle.” There were a few long minutes traveled in absolute silence, before Lance saw a new comms channel open.  


“Hey, Lance?” The voice was unmistakably Hunk’s, coming to Lance over a private channel. Lance flipped it open, turning off the others.  


“What?” Lance asked simply, all emotion drained from him. He slumped back in his seat, ready for the well-meaning lecture he was sure to get.  


“We all miss Earth, you know,” The solemn emotion in Hunk’s voice was far worse than the yelling he’d been expecting. Lance averted his eyes as Hunk continued. “Just because we don’t all show it doesn’t mean that we’re not sad that we don’t get to see our families, too.”  


“Whatever.” Lance replied, realizing that he was sulking and simultaneously realizing that he didn’t care. Hunk seemed to accept that he wasn’t going to get any more out of Lance, because the private channel cut out. Lance scoffed in the empty air of his cockpit, irrationally annoyed by Hunk blowing him off, but not seeing any point in pursuing it.  


As the Castle came into view, Lance realized that there was no one waiting for him there. No one who’d actually be glad that he was returning.  


That thought stayed with Lance for a while.

* * *

“Explain to me again, _Witch_ , what this new device of yours does.”  


The sound of Prorok’s boots hitting the stone floor of Haggar’s chamber echoed hollowly, and somehow left the Galra general feeling very small. He was a proud warrior, and feeling small did not come naturally to him; as with all other things that did not come naturally to him, a deep sense of anger welled within him in response.  


“That’s curious,” Haggar replied, her voice rasping in the empty air, “I don’t recall the Emperor placing you in a position of authority over me. What need have I to explain myself to you?”  


“The Emperor, in his wisdom, has ordered that I work alongside you, in order to capitalize on whatever disorder you seek to sow amongst the Paladins. But in order for me to do that, I need to know what exactly it is that you’re planning,” Prorok only just barely managed to keep his tone even and respectful. The Emperor had a great deal of respect for this woman and her...sorcery, but Prorok considered it little more than superstitious nonsense and poorly-explained science.  


“Oh, did he now? How interesting. I suppose it’s good for you to have something to do, though,” Prorok could feel himself bristling at her condescending tone, but forced himself to remain civil.  


“Listen to me, Witch. You may have the Emperor’s ear, but your schemes will never be as effective as my military.” Civil by Prorok’s standards, at least. Haggar just laughed though, and it raised Prorok’s bristles even more, if such a thing were possible.  


“Your military? The one that had Voltron on a silver platter, and somehow snatched defeat from the jaws of victory? You’ll forgive me for not being impressed by the comparison.” Her voice dripped with mockery, and Prorok took a few more steps toward, noting the difference in size between them; he could probably snap Haggar’s back like a twig if he could get his hands on her.  


He leveled a glare at her, as if his aggression were a physical force to bear down on her. “And your magic did better? I seem to recall your precious Ro-beasts being rather unsuccessful themselves.” He hissed at her, keeping his voice quiet. Her eyes narrowed, and they remained locked in stalemate for another minute before she broke the silence.  


“Very well, General. If you wish for details of my new plan, you shall have it. Do you recall Sendak?” Haggar said, turning back to some manner of crystal pillar growing in the center of the room.  


“The one captured by Voltron? Yes, I recall him. What of him?”  


A smile curled at her lips, clearly relishing description of her plans. “His failure was a surprising boon to us, for the knowledge it gave me; he managed to use the remnants of one of our Balmeran crystals, along with his own willpower to infect the Castle of Lions.”  


“How do you know this? Do you have spies within the Altean Castle?” Prorok’s voice was hopeful, but Haggar shook her head.  


“When we convert Balmeran crystals for our use with quintessence, they become linked into a hive network. When the Castle was infected, it briefly became part of the network; had I sufficient warning, I could have gotten much more out of the link, but I wasn’t aware of it in time.”  


“This science is all fascinating, Witch, but do get to the point.” Prorok crossed his arms, his voice tremoring with annoyance. Haggar’s knife-like smile grew wider.  


“Do you know of the new craft we installed in our fleets?” She asked, one hand on the crystal pillar. It hummed with power, and Prorok found himself unable to look directly at it.  


“I do. They were prohibitively expensive, due to their volume of...crystal.” He paused, her statements coming together. “They’re designed as suicide bombers. You intend to infect the Lions.” His eyes were wide with possibilities, and a predatory grin grew across his face.  


“I don’t just intend to. I have already succeeded. And if Sendak, with his meager will, could take over an entire castle, then imagine what I can do to a single Lion.” She stepped away from the crystal, allowing Prorok to look at the surface.  


As he stepped closer, his grin widened as he saw a sharp-featured young human with dark skin wearing a set of blue Paladin armor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all for reading! I'm looking forward to this going on for quite some time, so hopefully you'll be seeing a fair bit of this. This is my first work on Ao3, so any and all feedback is appreciated!


	2. I May Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from "I May Fall", by Jeff Williams, featuring Casey Williams.

Lance paced around his room, occasionally grunting and sighing. He couldn’t put his finger on why, but he’d been so irritable since getting back from that last mission that he just didn’t feel comfortable being around the others. It probably had something to do with major dressing down he’d received from Shiro when they’d gotten back. Okay, yeah, he may have mouthed off a little bit, but he was stressed! Couldn’t a guy catch a break?

He growled aloud and punched the wall of his bedroom, instantly regretting his decision when his fist flared with pain. He pulled it back and cursed vigorously in spanish, angry at the wall for being so hard, angry at his hand for being so soft, and at his brain for being so dumb.

_It’s not like it’s my fault anyway,_ he thought to himself, _everyone’s just on my case all the time. It’s enough to drive anyone crazy!_ The thought that no, it wasn’t just him was comforting, and he felt his anger ebb slightly, though it still pulsed like a headache behind his eyes. He needed to do something, to get his mind off of how lousy he felt. Maybe blowing off some steam wouldn’t be a bad idea. 

Grabbing his jacket off of his bed, he stepped lightly out of his door, noting that all the lights were off in the hallway; time was an iffy thing at best on the ship, since there was no real “daytime” in space, but Allura and Pidge had worked out a cycle that seemed to work for everyone. Apparently it was now “bedtime”. _Screw that noise,_ Lance thought as he strode to the training deck, his Bayard in hand. He whistled tunelessly as he walked inside the deck, noting with no small amount of relief that he was alone. 

Lucky him, finding the one time that Keith wasn’t already in here.

“Alright, begin...uh, melee training? Level 1, I guess?” He wasn’t sure if the deck would respond to such a half-cocked command, but the ceiling disgorged a robot armed with a sword, so clearly he did something right. Lance held up his Bayard, feeling his will transform it into its rifle form, the weight comfortable and oddly familiar in his hands. He pointed it directly at the robot Gladiator’s head just as the referee’s voice called “Begin!”

The first three shots Lance fired were deflected by the Gladiator’s blade, and Lance swore internally at whoever thought a level 1 combatant should be able to deflect lasers with a sword. The Gladiator quickly closed the distance between them regardless of Lance’s frantic backing away, and he found himself desperately knocking away sword blows with a weapon clearly not designed for melee combat. 

An ill-timed block allowed the Gladiator to land a solid kick on the side of his leg, causing Lance to crumple to the ground with a yell of pain. He had just enough presence of mind to shout out “End combat! Please don’t kill me!” as the Gladiator’s sword came to rest against his head. The Gladiator stood back, its sword resting between its feet as Lance thought ruefully about Allura’s ‘Altean child’ comment. 

_Give it another go. C’mon man, you can do this._

He wasn’t sure where the confidence came from, but hell YES he could do this. He stood up and dusted himself off, hobbling a bit from the pain in his leg, but eager to try again. His blood was roaring in his ears, and a growl came from deep in his gut. Was it his? Or was it his Lion’s? Lance decided that it really didn’t matter.

“Begin training, level 1!” He called out, much more confident. The light in the middle of the Gladiator’s head blossomed awake as it lifted its sword into a ready stance. _Keep your stance wide_ Lance shifted his legs apart, rooting himself. _Keep your arms up_ Lance lifted his rifle to his chest, bracing it in preparation. _Keep your eyes on the target_

The Gladiator rushed at him, and again Lance fired, and again the Gladiator blocked the shots, but its movements seemed slower, and easier to follow. As it closed the distance _Your weapon is an extension of your body_ Lance lowered his gun, blocking its upward slash with the body of his weapon. It staggered from the block, and Lance spun the rifle, bringing it back up to a ready stance to fire one, then another shot to the Gladiator’s left leg. The laser crackled and sparked where it hit, and the Gladiator stumbled back, giving Lance the opportunity to fire again.

 _The Bayard is an extension of your will_ Nodding to himself, Lance charged forward, rearing his weapon back. The Gladiator swung its blade at Lance, but the movement was slow and cumbersome, easily dodged as Lance ducked under it. He slammed his gun forward, the muzzle pressing against the Gladiator’s chest as Lance pulled the trigger. The resulting blast was far more powerful than the previous shot, and the force of it sent the robot soaring backwards, a gaping hole visible in its body. The ruined drone crumpled on the floor as the robotic referee declared Lance the victor, and he straightened up as a primal thrill ran through him.

That had felt _good_.

A growl in the back of his head agreed. Was that Blue? He’d felt his Lion’s presence before, but never so loud. It was...disconcerting, and at the same time, surprisingly comforting. It made him feel strong, like he could take on the world if he needed to. _Or maybe_ , he thought as a thrill went through him, _I actually WANT to take on the world_. He wondered idly if there was a setting for ranged combat training.

“Only one way to find out, really,” he muttered to himself. Hefting his rifle back up, he cleared his throat, trying to calm his nerves. “Begin ranged combat training, level three!”

He was fully and painfully aware that going straight from level one to level three was a bad idea, particularly given how badly all five of the Paladins had been trounced by their first training exercise. But right now, the only thing that he found himself caring about was the thrill running through him, and a primal need for more.

He’d been expecting a single, very skilled opponent; when the ceiling opened up three portals and spat out an equivalent number of opponents, he began to reconsider his decision. But he cracked his neck, raised his gun, and resigned himself to his decision. It was very hard to argue with the growl in the back of his head, pressing him on.

His mind snapped into overdrive as the three droids booted up, instincts that he hadn’t even known that he had overriding any actual conscious thought. _Get moving_ He lunged to the side as the droids opened fire, their shots flying through the air that his body had occupied microseconds prior. His longs legs striding across the ground, _Don’t let them surround you_ Lance’s body practically flew towards a part of the ground that had risen up as makeshift cover. He dove behind it as shots clipped the edges of his new shield, breathing heavily but not with exhaustion; instead, he felt exhilarated. 

As he listened to the crackling and sizzling of lasers colliding with his cover, the sounds formed patterns, directions and sequences. One droid to his far left, two on his near right. Each of them shot a three-shot burst, followed by two separate shots and then a brief pause. They were clearly programmed to overlap their shots to eliminate dead spots, but there were still pauses. Lance’s finger began tapping out the three rhythms, waiting for the moment when they’d all come together…

When it happened, Lance was already moving, his body anticipating the opening. He lunged out from behind his cover, two shots aimed at the left robot’s leg, dropping it like a rock. It dropped its weapon, shutting down as Lance turned his weapon on the remaining two. Their weapons were warming back up, but a shot directly on the first one’s hand made pulling the trigger impossible, and the gun fell to the ground. The droid quickly followed as a second shot caught it in the head. He ducked back behind cover as the remaining operational droid opened fire again, counting out the rhythm of its shots. They were slow to start again, but when they did, it was the exact same. _One two three, one, one, now!_

As he lunged out, he realized that he’d made a tactical error. The remaining droid was holding both its own gun and that of one of the fallen droids, and its muzzle was pointed directly at Lance’s face. His mind raced and his body froze up as the first flash of light burst out of the gun’s barrel _A warrior need not think_ and he stumbled backwards, but his left arm shot up instinctively, his shield popping into existence a fraction of a second before the laser connected with him. 

_All right, you hunk’a junk, if it’s a fight you want, you’ll get it,_ Lance thought with more than a small twinge of excitement. He took off across the battlefield, his legs extending in smooth, graceful strides that carried him past the droid’s beams. His heart was pounding as he spun into position, falling into a crouch and leveling his rifle at his target. And yet somehow, his head was clear and his hands were steady as a laser passed by his head, close enough to singe hairs. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled right as his finger squeezed the trigger, laying down one perfect shot directly on the droid’s throat, severing every signal to its body. The droid’s body crumpled to the floor in a lifeless heap, but to Lance’s surprise, the lights in the head were still on. It was still somehow active.

The growl in the back of his head was louder now, Lance realized with some surprise. It had been going the whole time, hadn’t it? He walked towards the ruined wrecks _corpses_ of his opponents, looking down at the still-blinking head of the decapitated robot. _Assert your dominance_ He reached down and slowly, almost solemnly picked it up, the metal hot against his hand. The growl getting louder in his mind, he pointed his gun at it, pressing the glowing muzzle against the side of the head, feeling a charge build within the rifle. A smile slowly grew across his face _You’ve earned it_ as he held the charge, relishing this feeling, this victory.

“What are you doing?”

The sudden, low voice jerked Lance out of whatever thoughts he’d been having, and his shot went wild, the heavy charge slamming into the wall and erupting in a shower of light and heat. Lance cringed as a few panels fall off the wall, but his embarrassment quickly turned to annoyance at whoever interrupted him. When he saw who it was, the annoyance shifted rapidly into anger.

Keith stood in the doorway, one hand on the doorway as he surveyed the training deck, watching the various pieces sink into the floor as the deck cleaned itself. He glared at Lance, who belatedly realized that he was asked a question.

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I keeping you from your precious 3 A.M. training time? How terribly thoughtless of me, I should have realized that this room belongs only to Keith.” Lance’s voice sounded drawling and unpleasant even to his own ears, but it wasn’t like he could help it; Keith was always such a jerk to him that it was only right that he be a jerk back.

“I was more talking about you shooting a defenseless robot head with a slasher smile on your face, but sure, if you want to be like this, we can do this.” Keith walked into the training deck, a grimace on his face _He doesn’t deserve to talk to you like this_ and his eyes trained on Lance. Lance eyed him with wariness and hunger warring in his mind, and he couldn’t stop himself.

“Fight me,” he heard himself say more than he said it on purpose. His gaze flicked up from Keith’s hands to his eyes, which were wide with surprise. Lance took the moment to study Keith _who always mocks me, never respected me, forgot me_ , narrowing his eyes. 

“What?” Keith said, taken aback. “You never spar with me voluntarily. What’s going on?” There was a tone in Keith’s voice, subtle and probing, that Lance interpreted as...pity? Suspicion? It hardly mattered. Keith had a weapon, and Lance had a score to settle.

“What’s ‘going on’ is that I’m about to wipe that pretty face of yours all over this floor!” Lance raised his rifle _it feels so light, an extension of my arm_ one-handed, gesturing around the room with it. Keith had that scowl on his face, the one that he always _always_ directed at Lance, but this time Lance was going to wipe it off his stupid, pretty face.

“Did you just call me pretty?” Lance nearly dropped his rifle at Keith’s response. 

“Wh-is that really what you’re focusing on?! Shut up and spar with me, you idiot!” 

“You know what, fine,” Keith said, gripping his Bayard tightly enough to turn his knuckles white. “I don’t know what your problem is, but I have a few bones to pick with you anyway, especially after you ruined that run earlier today.” The Bayard flashed a brilliant red before Keith’s sword manifested, the blade reflecting the light of the room into a dazzling array on the walls and on Keith’s skin. “This is gonna be really cathartic.”

“I’m surprised that you know a word like ‘cathartic’,” Lance taunted, taking up a position across the field from Keith. “I was really sure that your knowledge was limited to flying, fighting, and jerking me around,” He began to slowly circle the arena, watching Keith do the same. Lance’s eyes stayed on Keith’s blade, fully aware of the fact that neither of them were wearing armor. Maybe it’d be good for the star pilot to get hurt once in awhile, though.

Keith suddenly lunged forward, moving significantly faster than the droids before, and in the brief second it took Lance to adjust Keith had closed half the distance, his sword trailing behind him like a comet’s tail. He’s low to the ground and moving fast, and Lance doesn’t have enough time to get away-

_Let him come_

-Oh, that might just work. As the growl in his head reached a fever pitch, a smirk pulled at Lance’s lips. He lowered his rifle, crouching as Keith approached, confusion showing in quirks of his eyebrows as he reared his sword back to strike. Right before Keith could slow himself, Lance lunged forward to Keith’s left, swinging his body down and his leg around to catch Keith right behind the knees. It worked beautifully, and the quiet “Huh?” from Keith is the icing on the cake as he fell to the ground. Lance moved to stand on his back and proclaim himself the victor, but Keith continued his forward momentum to roll away, righting himself into a low crouch. Lance could swear he heard him _growling_. It was somehow odd to hear that same noise in his head and out of it.

“What’s the matter, man? Didn’t think I’d put up a fight?” He hefted his rifle onto his shoulder, a clear demonstration of arrogance, and oh, he really wants Keith to take the bait. To his surprise, Keith actually doesn’t, rising slowly to a standing position and taking up a much more defensive stance. The fact that Keith is apparently taking this more seriously brought a smile to Lance’s face as it simultaneously upset him. It’ll be harder to trap Keith if he’s ready for it.

Keith’s face was grim as he begins to circle again, and Lance fell in step, matching his strides. He briefly wondered if maybe he taunted too much, because there’s nothing friendly in Keith’s expression, no hint of playfulness like one would expect from sparring. Well, fine. If Keith wanted a real fight, then who was Lance to disappoint him? 

_Give him a war_

Lance is the first to move this time, raising his rifle to fire two shots at the ground near Keith’s left foot. It has the intended effect, and Keith darted to the right, cursing softly as he launched himself towards Lance again. _Too predictable_ Lance fired a small cluster of shots, each one aimed at Keith’s center of gravity. As expected, Keith’s shield popped up, blocking each one. But the translucent green of the shield limited Keith’s clarity of vision, obscuring Lance’s movements as he dashed to Keith’s side, firing in his rifle in a sideways spray of brilliant light. Keith ducked under the fan, lowering his shield as he rushed at Lance again, his movements quick and precise as his eyes flared with anger. 

As Keith’s blade swung up, Lance only barely brought his rifle up in time to block it. The shock from the colliding weapons rocked his entire body, and he shook with the effort of holding Keith at bay.

“What the hey, man? If I hadn’t blocked that, you could have killed me!” Lance said, his voice fluctuating between worry, anger, and whining.

“Oh yeah, I forgot that swords are way deadlier than guns. I should just be playing, like you were when you shot at my lungs.” Keith’s voice was far steadier, but there were notes of fury that made Lance’s blood boil. Keith wasn’t holding back, apparently.

_So why should you?_

With a burst of surprising strength, Lance shoved at Keith’s sword, flinging it back and away as he pivoted on his heel, throwing his weight into a kick that collided heavily with his opponent’s stomach. The growl in the back of his head intensified, the noise rising in a crescendo as he ran after his target, sensing the weakness. A sword was raised to block his blow, but it’s too little, too late as a flash of blinding sapphire light bursts in his hands, the blade of his spear easily knocking the sword out of his way, out of his prey’s hands. The butt of Lance’s spear knocks his target to the ground, and he’s poised to strike, to drive the blade down, to pierce-

“Lance! Enough!”

The deep voice reverberated through the Training Deck, and Lance completely froze. He blinked a few times, registering Keith underneath him, a look of...fear on his face. Why was he afraid? 

It took Lance another second to realize that the weapon in his hand wasn’t his rifle; it was a spear; one that looked like it was made of intertwined sapphire and silver, with a gently curving blade capping one end. _Where did that come from?_

“Get off of me,” Keith’s voice rumbled beneath him, and Lance jumped, backing away hurriedly. Keith stood slowly as Shiro walked into the room. He spared Keith a brief, worried glance, but his eyes quickly focused back on Lance. There’s a worrying combination of emotions in his stare, and it made Lance uncomfortable to meet it. He wished that Shiro would just say something already.

“Your Bayard changed,” Is the only thing he said. Lance gaped at him for a second, almost dropping his spear before grabbing it again, juggling it clumsily for a second before holding it up, as if showing it to Shiro.

“I...yeah, I guess it did. I don’t know how,” Lance says, one hand on the spear and the other scratching the back of his head. The growling is quieter now, barely a hum in the back of his head. Did Keith and Shiro hear that from their lions? _Of course they did_ , and it’d be dumb to ask.

“I think you should get some rest, both of you. It’s late, and you both look exhausted.” Despite addressing both of them, Lance could tell that there were different messages to both of them; worry and concern for Keith, and disappointment for Lance. He couldn’t figure out _why_ , though; he’d finally won a training match, and he’d gotten his Bayard to change shape, something none of the others had done yet! 

So why did it feel like he’d lost something?

“Yeah, sure,” Lance muttered. Pointing his spear at the ground, he stormed out of the training room, leaving a very confused Shiro alone with Keith, still rubbing his stomach from where the butt of the spear had slammed into him. 

Instead of the short walk to his bedroom, Lance’s feet carried him further through the twisting hallways of the castle. His mind wandered, trying to parse together what had just happened. He’d fought two matches against Gladiators, one melee and one ranged, then Keith had come in, they had started sparring, and...apparently Lance had won? He remembered an adrenaline high, he remembered the rhythm of combat, and he probably did a lot of taunting, but details were just gone.

He looked down at the spear in his hand. It looked like someone had molded his rifle into a different shape, and then turned it into a work of art. The rifle had felt so familiar and appropriate in his hands, and this just felt, not quite wrong, but out of place.. Like it belonged to someone else, not to him.

His thoughts kept him from realizing his destination until he nearly walked into a giant claw. He looked up at the towering form of the Blue Lion, suddenly struck by apprehension. He couldn’t quite place why, but he felt suddenly...out of place. Like the spear. Looking up into the Lion’s eyes, he found that he couldn’t quite remember why he had been chosen.

_Because you are strong._

Lance clutched his head as the growling exploded in his head, a hundred times louder than before. He doubled over in pain as his head throbbed, unable to even keep his eyes open as tears of pain streamed down his face.

_You know this. I chose you because of your faith, your skill, your potential. You are my Paladin._

“Are...are you talking to me?” He stared up at Blue, the pain subsiding enough to allow him to open his eyes, at least. “How is this happening…”

_Our connection is strong, Paladin. I know not why, save for that your mind is open, your heart is willing, and your soul is strong._

Despite the pain still aching in his head, Lance felt his chest puff out a bit with pride. He was strong, wasn’t he? Didn’t matter what Keith or Pidge said.

 _Paladin._ Lance jumped at the voice in his head, the aches threatening to overwhelm him again. _I wish to show you something._ The lion leaned down, opening its (her?) mouth to allow him entry. 

He hesitated, looking around the hangar as though Shiro would materialize from the air to scold him. But when no such thing occurred, Lance steeled himself before walking into his Lion. This is what he’d been brought here for, right?

* * *

“This is happening too slowly. Obviously the boy is weak-willed, why can we not just take him and be done with it?” Prorok paced the cavernous Druid chamber, his hands clenched behind his back. 

“Is that what you believe? That this power takes those who are weak? Was the memory of King Alfor, stored in a supercomputer, weak? This crystal does not exploit weakness, Prorok. Any fool with a voice can do that.” Haggar’s response was almost weary, as though she thought herself above explanation.

“What, then? What does this crystal prey on?” Prorok maintained the angered tone in his voice, but he found himself bafflingly curious. Haggar grinned at him, an expression devoid of mirth.

“Strength,” she answered simply. “Strength breeds confidence, which becomes arrogance if not properly cultivated. The crystal’s power was enough to corrupt even the memory of King Alfor; a fledgling Paladin of Voltron will be child’s play.” Her voice was filled with confidence in her plan, but Prorok had seen too many of her schemes go awry to trust this one blindly.

“Is that why you’re making him stronger, then? To make him easier to manipulate? Because all I see is that you’re strengthening his bond to his Lion-”

“Of course I’m strengthening their bond, you imbecile,” Haggar said, interrupting him. He visibly bristled at the slight, but if she noticed, she gave no indication. “The closer he is to his Lion, the more power I have over him. And besides,” she paused, seeming to drink in her coming victory, “We wouldn’t want a weak pawn, now would we? Now prepare your soldiers, Prorok. You’re going to meet him.”

Prorok’s face split into a toothy grin. Halting his pacing, he turned towards Hagger, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Tell me more…”


	3. I'll Let Myself Be Taken, Just For the Thrill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright boys and girls, here's where I start making s*** up. Given a startling dearth of actual Voltron history, I'm just gonna pull facts out of my arse, so bear with me here. And thank you all for reading!
> 
> Chapter title comes from "The Boys Are Too Refined", by the Hush Sound.

“Has anyone seen Lance?”

The question cut through the uncharacteristic silence of the breakfast table. Keith stayed stubbornly focused on his food, though the others raised their heads as if just noticing his absence.

Pidge did not, though, still focused on her latest project. “I thought it seemed strangely peaceful,” she said in response to Hunk’s question, still tinkering with the prototype for Rover 2.0. “He’s probably just sleeping in.”

“Still, it wouldn’t be a bad idea for one of us to check up on him. Keith, would you mind-” Shiro broke off as Keith leveled a glare at him that could curdle milk. “I mean, Hunk! Why don’t you go check on Lance?” Hunk looked between Keith and Shiro, assessing the situation quickly.

“Yeah, sure. Guess that leaves you to take care of dishes, Coran,” Hunk said, patting Coran’s shoulder as he passed. He received an enthusiastic nod in response as Coran immediately sprang up to collect the used dishes.

“This is rather worrisome, though,” Allura said, tapping her spoon against the table thoughtfully. The mice sat on the table, watching her spoon move up and down in rapt attention. “I wonder if Lance is simply moping after his behavior yesterday, or is this is something more serious. Perhaps he’s fallen ill?” Her face showed legitimate concern, and for reasons she couldn’t comprehend, it seemed to aggravate Keith.

“He’s not sick,” Keith said, with venom dripping from his words, “he’s just being a child.” Pidge and Allura shared a significant glance at the amount of disdain in Keith’s voice, but before they could question him he stood from the table fast enough to knock his chair over, stalking out of the room. Pidge stared at his silhouette as he went, then turned to Shiro.

“What the heck was that all about?” She asked, her attention irrevocably torn from her new project. 

Shiro sighed, clasping his hands together on the table. “Lance and Keith sparred late last night, and Lance won,” He said, and almost continued before Pidge’s gasp of shock cut him off.

“Lance beat Keith?!” Pidge exclaimed, leaning forward on the table. “No way, how?” Allura seemed similarly shocked, one hand covering her mouth as her mice stared in amazement.

“I only saw the end of it,” Shiro admitted, looking away from both of them, “but it was...brutal. Lance’s movements were much more fluid than I’d seen before, and his Bayard was in a different form than its usual rifle. When I interrupted them-”

“That’s wonderful!” Allura suddenly said, cutting Shiro off again. “The ability to reshape one’s Bayard normally comes after years of practice! For Lance to have accomplished it so quickly speaks wonders as to his ability to communicate with his Lion. I wonder if he’s been sneaking in some extra training in secret…”

“If he has, then I’m not sure that I like the effect that it’s had on him,” Shiro said, his brow furrowing as he remembered what he’d walked in on. 

“What was his Bayard’s other form?” Pidge asked, eyes wide with curiosity. Of course that would be what Pidge focused on, Shiro thought with a smile. He was about to answer when they heard an echo through the castle hallways.

“...Lance?...” Hunks voice bounced between the walls, concern weighing heavily in it. Shiro stood up immediately, looking out into the hallway.

“Hunk? Is Lance not in his room?” A subtle note of worry in his voice, Shiro moved out into the hallway, nearly colliding with Hunk. He reached out to steady Hunk, noting the fear in the boy’s eyes. “You didn’t find him, did you?” Hunk shook his head vigorously in response, and Shiro swore softly. He could see Hunk’s eyes grow wider in response to the swear, and Shiro flushed. “Sorry, Hunk.”

Hunk shrugged before stepping out of Shiro’s grip. “S’okay,” Hunk said, his eyes downcast. “I just wish I knew what was wrong.”

“Yeah, you’d think he’d be excited about beating Keith, not all hiding and sulky,” Pidge said, walking out of the kitchen. “Well, it’s not my problem. Lemme know if you find him.” Shiro stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder, fixing her with a stare of authority.

“Finding Lance is everyone’s problem, Pidge,” he said, in a tone that brooked no disagreement.

“Shiro is absolutely right,” Allura said, walking up behind them. “If any Paladin, even Lance, is missing, then all of you need to find him. It is imperative to our mission that you all are safe and whole.”

“That’s right!” Coran piped up from the sink, a soapy dish threatening to escape his grip. “If any of you is missing, then you won’t be able to form Voltron. And if you can’t form Voltron, well, kiss any hope of beating Zarkon goodbye!” Whether he was oblivious to everyone wincing at his words or simply uncaring was impossible to determine.

“Yes Coran, thank you for your input,” Shiro said with just a hint of sarcasm. Allura giggled behind her hand, but her amusement faded quickly as her gaze met Shiro’s. They both nodded simultaneously, a silent understanding passing between them.

“Coran, you can wash the dishes later. Come with me, let’s see if we can pinpoint the location Lance’s location in the bridge. If he’s on the ship, it’ll pop up immediately,” Allura said with her usual air of majesty. She swept out of the dining chamber, Coran following behind her with the dishtowel still in his hands.

“Alright then. You two are with me,” Shiro said, addressing Hunk and Pidge. Hunk nodded, his hand moving up to salute at the same time. Pidge just looked tired.

“Are you sure, Shiro? I have a lot of work to do on the Lions, and on Rover Mark 2. Maybe I could just look for him in the Engineering wing? And just...stay there if I don’t find him?” Pidge looked up with the best impression of puppy dog eyes she could manage, but Shiro looked unmoved. 

“No, I don’t think so. In fact, we’re all going together, so no one else gets lost in this labyrinth of a castle. Let’s check the training deck first.”

“I thought we were looking for Lance, not Keith…” Pidge grumbled, but fell into step behind Shiro. 

Hunk brought up the rear, wringing his hands in worry. “Do you think he’s alright? I mean I’m sure he’s alright he may be a little airheaded but Lance isn’t an idiot I mean he does he some common sense he probably won’t get himself hurt but what if there’s another problem with the castle like with the weird Galra crystal before and something goes haywire and…” Pidge was getting progressively more and more annoyed with Hunk’s rambling, and Shiro decided to step in before the techie took matters into her own hands.

“I’m sure he’s fine, Hunk. I’ll bet that we’ll find him...sleeping in his Lion, or something.” Shiro said, his voice intentionally soothing. 

“Yeah, that does sound like Lance,” Hunk said, scratching his head. “I don’t know though, this feels...worse.”

“Worse?” Shiro echoed, looking back so Hunk could see his profile. “Worse how?”

“I don’t know, I just have a bad feeling about it. Like...didn’t he seem off yesterday? After the mission went south?” Hunk’s voice was full of worry, and Shiro hated to admit it, but it was contagious. Hunk’s hunches were frequently correct, so for him to claim a bad feeling here might mean something.

“I hope he seemed off; his grandstanding ruined that whole mission! Were we supposed to just let him off the hook for it?” Pidge reached up and hooked her hands behind her head, clearly unamused by the whole turn of events. 

Shiro bit back a groan, forcing his tone to stay even. “That wasn’t just Lance, and you know it,” he said, a note of scolding in his voice. They were coming up on the training deck now, but Shiro wanted to get his point across. “None of us were working as a team, and our lack of cohesion yesterday is both everyone’s fault, and no one person’s fault. It’s not fair to just blame Lance.”

“Yeah, but it’s way easier…” Pidge muttered, cleaning out her ear with her pinky finger. Shiro turned to face her, clearly done with her insubordinate attitude, but before he could speak further Allura’s voice blared through the castle’s speakers.

“Paladins! I’ve located Lance!” Shiro didn’t seem to notice the tone of worry in her voice as he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank goodness. Where is he?” Shiro answered, before realizing that Allura couldn’t hear him. Pidge shot him a funny look, and he grinned sheepishly. Fortunately, the announcement wasn’t over yet.

“Please come to the bridge immediately. We might have something of a problem,” It was Coran this time, and the stress was far more evident in his voice. Shiro stood up straight and his smile vanished, and Keith walked out of the training room, his hair sticking to his face and neck with sweat.

“Lance is still missing?” Keith said, his expression remaining carefully neutral. Pidge noticed a slight twinge of concern on him though, and decided to poke a bit of fun.

A mischievous smirk played across Pidge’s face as she leaned past Shiro. “Yeah, and that means that we all need to go see what trouble your boyfriend’s got himself in.” To her surprise and delight, Keith had no retort, and his face turned a brilliant crimson that spread down to his neck. Pidge would have said more if Shiro hadn’t stopped them and forced them to start moving. 

Hunk wrung his hands the whole way, Pidge kept stealing glances at Keith, who steadfastly refused to meet her eyes, and Shiro was just trying to stay calm. For all that he goofed around, Lance was actually very capable when he wasn’t throwing himself on top of explosions to save his friends. Honestly, if anyone was going to go missing then he was somewhat paradoxically glad that it was Lance. So long as he didn’t meet any more ill-intentioned beautiful aliens, he should be fine.

But he hurried to the bridge all the same.

Upon their arrival, Shiro immediately saw a number of problems. Firstly, the full star map was up; that wouldn’t have been true unless Lance was a great distance away. Secondly, Allura and Coran were sharing significant glances, which they always did right before sharing bad news. And thirdly, neither of them had turned to look at the Paladins when they entered.

“Princess?” Shiro said carefully, to draw her attention. She started and turned towards him, and judging by her face, yes, this was very bad. However, it was Coran who spoke first.

“So, there’s good news, bad news, and worse news,” he began, twirling his moustache thoughtfully. “The good news is, we found Lance! And as far as we can tell, he’s perfectly safe. The bad news is, he’s about twelve hundred light years away.” The reaction was immediate and violent as the Paladins shouted their disapproval. Hunk was incredulous, unable to believe that Lance had gotten so far on his own. Pidge was upset that Lance had gone alone, didn’t he know that she wanted to see the universe too? Keith was absolutely _furious_ , demanding to know what exactly that idiot was thinking going so far on his own. Shiro kept silent, waiting for the final shoe to drop. 

“Paladins, please! Calm down. We do know where he’s going, and if you see on the map, he’s about to land there now. It’s a planet called Talsh, on the outer edges of what used to be the Altean space sector,” her voice, commanding at first, had grown soft and solemn as she mentioned her old home. The Paladins shut up, willing to listen to her explanation.

“It’s both curious and unsurprising, in different ways, that he went there,” Coran explained, “because that’s where every Blue Paladin for the last twenty thousand years has gone to train! But it’s normally the last stop for them, because it’s where they achieve true communion with their Lion.” Shiro shared a glance with Allura, and decided to derail Coran before he went too deeply into a history lesson. Pidge got there first, though, albeit with different intentions.

“Twenty thousand years? Voltron has existed for twenty millennia?!” Pidge’s voice cracked with excitement as she considered this, and Coran’s resultant glee was all too obvious. _Better not let this go for too long_ , Shiro thought. The two of them could go for hours.

“How did Lance even know to go there?” Hunk asked, and Shiro shot him a grateful look for interrupting Coran and Pidge. Hunk didn’t notice though, his gaze locked on the holographic planet showing his best friend’s destination.

“We don’t know,” Allura said, shaking her head slowly. “The fact that he was aware of its existence at all implies a level of connection with his Lion that none of you, even Shiro, has yet to obtain. But at the moment, the hows and whys don’t matter. All that matters is that we get Lance back safely.”

“Princess?” Pidge said, her voice suddenly quiet and fearful. “That image on the map, next to where Lance is going...Is that a Galra ship?” Coran and Allura exchanged another glance, and Shiro felt his stomach twist with worry. The image Pidge was pointing to was unmistakably the Galran symbol, and for it to be visible at this distance…

“That...would be the worse news, yes. There’s a Galra flagship heading to that same planet, and they have a significant lead on us. Even if we left immediately and went full speed the whole way there, we’d arrive fifteen hours behind them.” Coran’s hands wildly gesticulated at the map as he spoke, demonstrating the disparate distances, and doing anything he could not to betray the slight tremble that Shiro barely detected. 

“Are you sure that’s accurate? Because I recall your finger counting being more of an art than a science,” Pidge said, her sarcastic tone wavering slightly as she hoped for some measure of reassurance. Shiro rested a hand on her shoulder, but her body didn’t relax at all. Coran bristled slightly at Pidge’s comment, but calmed when Allura rested her hand on his arm.

“Please Paladins, I know that this is stressful, but we have to believe that Lance will be alright. His Lion should be able to easily outrun the flagship, and return to us.”

“Does that mean that we’re not going after him?” Keith said, his voice surprisingly hoarse, as though his throat wasn’t quite cooperating. Allura glanced at him, and the look of worry and shame in her eyes was answer enough. “Lance is one of us, and a vital part of the team. You can’t expect us to just leave him in enemy territory!” He took a step forward, a look in his eyes that was equal parts anger and desperation, but Shiro stood in front of him, a stern look on his face.

“I wish we could, Keith,” Allura said, her eyes back on the image of Lance’s Lion, “But the former Altean sector lies in the heart of the Galra empire. Taking the castle there would be effectively surrendering to Zarkon, and we cannot do that.”

“Then I’ll go alone! I’ll beat some sense into Lance, and bring him back here. Please Allura, I...We need to get him back.” Keith hung his head, and Shiro placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Keith looked up at him, and there was so much concern in his eyes that Shiro almost told him to go.

“I am sorry Keith, but I cannot risk losing you as well,” Allura said, stepping forward to reach out to Keith. He pulled away from her and Shiro both, storming out of the bridge. Hunk looked between Shiro and Allura, and received a nod from Shiro that meant go after him. As he exited the bridge, Pidge approached Coran to discuss the history of Voltron, no doubt an attempt to distract herself from how helpless they all were in this situation.

Allura must have noticed Shiro’s state, because he felt her hand lay gently on his left arm. His human one. She was always so thoughtful in that way, and he offered her a wan smile in return that she mirrored, her own laced with sadness and worry. They felt a desperate need to do something, and yet, all they could do was trust that Lance would return safely.

* * *

The planet Talsh was a glorious sight, even from the reaches of space. Covered in its entirety by deep blue oceans and pale blue crystal, it reflected the light of its three distant suns brilliantly, though Lance noted that with the angle of the suns, it was never not daytime there. Kind of an unwelcome change from the constant night of space, but at least it was different. 

“So, remind me again why I’m here, Blue,” He said aloud, though by this point, he was perfectly aware that he and his Lion were connected mentally. He just needed to hear sounds, darn it.

 _We are here to commune with each other. It is here that we shall become one, my Paladin._ As always, her words came accompanied by a splitting headache that Lance theorized was a result of him thinking too much to have room for another mind to fit easily in his head. 

He could feel phantom scorn from Pidge as he even thought that. 

_Disregard what the other Paladins think of you, my Chosen. All you need is that you are mine, and you will be worthy. I will make you strong._ The thought was incredibly comforting to Lance; he’d connected to his Lion more deeply than any other Paladin, and he was going to an ancient training site to bond even further with her. He’d come back greater than ever, and they’d all have to respect him - especially Keith. He shook his head to clear it as he landed Blue, feeling her shudder under him as her claws connected with the firm crystal beneath him.

 _Disembark, Paladin. We have much to do._ Lance was getting better at handling the pain; he barely even clutched his head anymore, and his eyes only watered a little when Blue’s voice sounded in his brain. He still wished that she’d go back to the old ‘putting ideas in his brain’ instead of actual words, ‘cause that hurt a lot less, but there was a big part of him that thought talking to a telepathic alien Lion battleship was still really freakin’ cool.

As Blue opened her mouth, Lance walked outside, feeling the light of two suns surround him. Their triangular positions meant that two out of the three suns were always visible, and Lance could feel his skin warming from their light, both shining down on him, and reflected up from the crystals that formed the ground beneath him. The ground rumbled slightly as a noise grew from Blue, and Lance covered his ears as she let out a deafening roar, the sound reverberating off of the water and crystal out across what must have been the entire planet. 

Lance stood in wonder as the shaking continued, and the crystal reformed itself in response to the roar. A huge walkway of glimmering blue crystal rose up from the water, and Blue’s purring gently eased him forward. It seemed as much a physical force as a sound, and Lance thought that even if he tried, he probably wouldn’t be able to resist it. He didn’t really want to, though; this was going to make him stronger, more capable, and if anyone on the team needed that, he did.

As he walked forward, accompanied occasionally by a thunderous footstep from the mountainous Lion behind him, Lance found himself reflecting on his performance with the team. He had been the first to find his Lion, but that had been nothing more than chance, ultimately. It just meant that they had all been given the chance to watch him flounder, inexperienced in piloting such an odd craft.

Inexperienced period, if he was being honest with himself. He was supposedly a fighter pilot, but as Keith was always happy to remind him, he only ever got to that point because Keith dropped out. Sometimes he honestly felt like he was desecrating Blue with his presence, like she deserved better than a cargo pilot to fly her. Even compared to the way that Hunk and Pidge flew their Lions, who weren’t even pilots to begin with, he seemed...subpar.

As he shaded his eyes from the sunlight, he remembered countless times that he’d been incapacitated by Galran fire, or that his actions had directly caused harm to the team. He’d probably needed rescue more than any of the others; maybe more than the others combined, honestly. He found himself sinking deeper into this self-pity as his feet carried him blindly forward, surrounded by sights that at any other time would have been dazzling. 

A gentle nudge on his back and in his mind stopped him at a massive circular platform, and he looked back to notice that the walkway he’d crossed had sunk back into the ocean behind him. He looked back around his current location, and noted around ten pillars of crystal that were steadily rising in a circle inside the island. Awed by the massive structures, Lance wandered inside the circle, an odd feeling surging in his chest that he couldn’t quite identify.

 _Behold, my Paladin, at those who came before you._ He turned to her, mouth hanging open in shock before turning back to the crystal pillars, and he saw them: images of the former Blue Paladins, as though suspended in time within the crystal. His heart hammered in his chest as he approached the nearest one, and he recognized the dark skin, the white hair, the elegant features.

“That’s...Allura’s father, isn’t it?” He rested his hand against the pillar, finding it surprisingly warm and comforting against his skin. 

_Yes. Alfor was the Blue Paladin before you, before I went to sleep for ten thousand years._

“Is this really him? Alfor, I mean. Is his body in here?” Lance’s voice was quiet and reverent, standing in respect at something that resembled a graveyard. Would his body lie here as well one day?

_No. Though his spirit lies here, his body was destroyed when he died. There are no bodies here, young Paladin; only souls._

Lance didn’t even notice that his head no longer hurt when she spoke, he was so enraptured by the presence of his predecessors. Looking past the crystal that held Alfor, he moved to the others, taking in their appearances, wondering who they must have been. Someone with green skin and six arms, a fierce expression on their face even in death. A person with coarse fur covering their body, their hands clasped as if in prayer. An Altean, probably male, ethereally beautiful with silver hair pulled back in a ponytail. Lance slowly revolved as he took them all in, the enormity of what and who he was now finally sinking in, threatening to crush him under its weight. He fell to his knees, his eyes threatening again to drown themselves in tears.

“Why...why am I here?” He didn’t turn to face Blue, but he knew she was still there. He could feel her presence, weighing down on him just like all these faces, staring at their inadequate inheritor.

 _I am here to make you worthy_ , was the only response he received. He lifted his hand and his Bayard materialized in it, shifting into its rifle form unbidden. He stared at it as its form twisted, the smooth metal transforming into shimmering crystal and silver, just like the spear. It was longer now, and thinner, a weapon of great elegance and grace.

But it didn’t feel like his anymore.

He barely registered the sound of spacecraft landing near him, alighting almost delicately upon the crystal. Blue registered no concern, so it couldn’t be bad. He looked up when he heard footsteps, registering figures with purple fur approaching them. Who were they again? He felt something in the back of his head, something warning caution, but he couldn’t quite remember why.

“Come along, Blue Paladin,” the one in front said, his voice low and rough, sounding more like boots crunching on gravel than an actual voice. Lance’s eyes tried to focus on him, but his form wouldn’t stop wavering, like they were underwater. The growl was loud in his mind and he couldn’t focus, could barely feel the crystal beneath his legs or the rifle in his hands. His numb fingers released the rifle, and it clattered to the ground, reverting back to its dormant form. Lance stared up at the figure, his eyes blank.

“Are you going to make me worthy?” He heard the words leave his mouth more than he actually said them; he felt like a passenger in his own mind, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. This was going to make him stronger. This was going to make him better.

“I am,” the figure said, reaching down a hand to lift him up. Lance reached out to grip it, and the figure lifted him up easily, placing him on unsteady legs. The figure bent down to pick up his weapon, and handed it to him. Lance took it in his unsteady hands, and the figure’s hands closed over his, holding him still.

“I will make you strong,” the figure promised, and Lance felt a weight lift from his shoulders. The figure turned around, back to their craft-why was it so hard to focus on anything?-and Lance followed, his expression and mind blank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! This was honestly my funnest chapter to write so far, just because I enjoyed the character interaction so much. Also, Alfor being a former Blue Paladin came from a Tumblr post that I have tried to find, and honestly cannot. If you were the author of a wonderfully written Tumblr essay about Alfor being the former Blue Paladin, please let me know! As always, feedback of any sort is appreciated, and thank you all for reading!


	4. Feel Safe In The Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright folks, I'm going to continue making up canon as I see fit, and no power in the 'verse is gonna stop me. There's also one character in here who may seem to be acting pretty out of character, but bear with me and I guarantee things will make sense. ADDITIONALLY: There are huge spoilers for Episode 11 of Voltron, but odds are, if you're on this tag, you've already watched the whole thing. As always, thank you for reading!
> 
> Chapter title comes from "Safe in the Dark", by Ludo.

A gasp from Allura brought Shiro back to the present, and he started from his nap on the couch. He ran to her side, seeing Coran get there first and steady her. She leaned heavily on him, breathing quickly and shallowly. She turned to face Shiro, and the look on her face told him everything.

“They have him,” he said simply. She nodded, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, but she stood from Coran’s grip and moved back to the star chart, zooming in on Talsh as much as possible. The image of the Blue Lion had vanished, and the Galran symbol was leaving the planet.

“There has to be something we can do!” Pidge said from the front of the bridge, in her navigator’s seat. “If I can pinpoint the Galra flagship’s location, I can track it across the system, we can figure out where it’s going, and we can be waiting for them!” Shiro found himself surprised by the emotion in her voice; were she and Lance close?

“Tracking them isn’t a bad idea,” he said thoughtfully, “but actually going after them is likely inadvisable. They have a significant lead on us, and-”

“Why not?!” Keith demanded as he stormed back into the bridge, a very flustered Hunk following him. “We went to the heart of the Galra Empire to save Allura, and none of you thought twice about that!”

“We did, and you counseled against that, Keith,” Shiro responded coolly, seeing Keith flinch at the reminder. He didn’t seem deterred though, his glare attempting to bore holes in Shiro. “And that particular adventure didn’t end well, if you recall. We nearly lost the Black Lion, you nearly died fighting Zarkon, and we were thrown through a wormhole, where we were separated from each other for months. Besides, without Lance and his Lion, we can’t even form Voltron; we’re at a fraction of our fighting capacity, and we can’t risk another defeat.”

“So we’re just going to stay here and do nothing?!” Keith advanced on Shiro, his stance aggressive, yet Shiro held his ground. 

“I never said that,” Shiro said, his voice remaining calm and even. “Pidge is going to track the ship that we think has him, and while we are NOT going to set up an ambush,” he said directly to Pidge, watching her sink back behind her chair, “We are going to make sure that we know where they’re going, and when. We’ll draw up plans in the meantime.”

“Actually, there might be...complications with that,” Allura said, her voice quiet. They all turned to look at her, but she faced away, back to the Galran symbol moving away from Talsh. “When the Galrans held the Red Lion, I could not sense it whatsoever until it came within orbit of Arus; do you recall?” She turned to face them and they nodded, especially Keith. “If the Galrans do that again, I will not be able to locate the Blue Lion. Thus, even if we do track the flagship…”

“Lance is gone.” Keith said, his even tone belying the fury he felt well within him. His hands clenched tightly as his side, trembling slightly. Whether they shook from the force with which he held them, or from something more emotional was difficult to say. Allura seemed to take note of both possibilities.

“Not necessarily,” she started hastily, hoping to halt Keith’s anger. “But he will be difficult to find. We got lucky with the Red Lion; I doubt the Galra will make the same mistake again. Zarkon is many things, but he is unfortunately not stupid.”

“Then what’s our plan?” Keith said, his voice little more than a growl. He could feel Shiro’s sidelong glance, and he didn’t appreciate it. A complex war of emotions was raging through him, and none of their half-baked ideas were making it any better. “If it were any of us, and Lance was here, you all know he’d never accept leaving us.” That, at least, seemed to have the desired effect: each of them turned away from him, except for Coran. Keith met his glance, and Coran exhaled, letting out a heavy sigh.

“And if it were Lance here, and one of us captured, would you be alright with him throwing himself into danger for the slight chance of saving us?” Coran’s voice was quiet, and Keith knew that he was remembering Lance, throwing himself over the Altean to shield him from the explosion that had nearly gotten Lance killed.

“That doesn’t matter! What matters is that Lance is in trouble, and he needs us, and we can’t just sit around here and do nothing while they…” Do to him what they did to Shiro was what his mind wouldn’t let him say. Not with Shiro so close, and his wounds still so fresh. Shiro seemed to get the message anyway, and placed his hand on Keith’s arm, the gesture simultaneously reassuring and restricting.

“We are going to get him back, Keith; even if we have to tear through the entire Galra fleet to do it. But we can’t do it if we’re not careful, and we both know that Lance wouldn’t want us to put ourselves in harm’s way.” Shiro tried to stay calm, but his voice hitched with emotion, and Keith looked up at him for a moment, his expression inscrutable. Then Keith broke away from him, running out of the room again, but not with the anger he had last time. Shiro looked back at Hunk for help, who raised his hands in the air helplessly.

“Don’t look at me, I’m not running after him again. Last time he just started punching walls and I’m not gonna lie, I was a little scared he was gonna start punching me.” Shiro couldn’t help a sigh at Hunk’s excuse, but understood all too well how Keith could get. 

“I get how he’s feeling, though.” Shiro looked up at Pidge, who was still hunched over her computer screens. “I want to go after Lance, too, because we just got everyone back together, and I don’t-” she broke off, her voice choked as she forced back tears, “I don’t want to lose another family.” She didn’t look up at anyone, but the emotion clouding her voice meant that she didn’t have to. Shiro looked at Allura, and her eyes were looked moist as she met his gaze. No less determined though. Something had to be done, and fast.

“Stay here, everyone. Keep monitoring the situation, I’ll go calm him down,” Shiro left the room, wandering down the castle’s hallways, his mind still racing from the argument. There was a very large part of him that wanted to go after Lance immediately, and whether it was to save the boy or strangle him was something he was still trying to decide. What had possessed Lance to leave without telling anyone? He was as prone to sulking as anyone his age, but very rarely did his moods last this long, or have consequences this dire. Shiro shook his head in a vain attempt to clear his thoughts, deciding that such reflection wasn’t going to help anything, not at this moment. He needed to be thinking of a plan, and he needed to believe that Lance was going to be alright. 

Eventually his search took him to Keith’s room, the door closed. He knocked on it softly to announce his presence, and as he pressed his ear to the door, he heard...sniffling? Was Keith crying? Shiro hoped not; he had no idea how to handle that. Keith wasn’t someone who regularly showed emotions other than anger, and he took particular pains to hide any sign of weakness from Shiro. If these events had shook him to this point, then this was going to be far harder than he had expected.

When the door opened suddenly in his face, the figure standing in front of him certainly didn’t look like he’d been crying. His arms were crossed over his chest, and when Shiro didn’t speak first, Keith turned around and walked back into his room. The door didn’t close in his face, so Shiro followed, waiting for Keith to explain his behavior.

Apparently Keith didn’t plan to make this easy for him though, as the two stood in the room for several minutes, staring at each other until Keith finally sighed and fell back to sit on his bed, holding his head in his hands. Shiro carefully sat next to him, making sure to leave some space.

“Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”

Both of them spoke at once, and Keith turned his eyes to the floor as Shiro turned to face him. 

“What’s going on? It’s not like you to get this upset, even though it’s hardly unwarranted.” Shiro’s voice stayed quiet, and he waited for Keith to respond. Keith gathered himself slowly, taking in a few breaths before he trusted himself to speak again. Now that Shiro was examining him a little closer, he saw that his eyes were slightly red and swollen, and his bottom lip had the slightest hint of a tremor. Crap, he really had been crying.

Keith’s hands clenched and unclenched, as though he was desperate for something to do with them. “I don’t know, Shiro. I just keep thinking about Lance being...gone, or in trouble, or in the Galra’s hands, and I think about how it may have been me who pushed him away, and my chest just seizes up. It’s like...it’s a little like the way I used to feel when I thought about you, when the Kerberos mission went south,” Keith’s voice was quiet and contemplative, and trembled just the slightest bit. Shiro sucked in a breath, realizing exactly what Keith is talking about, and also exactly why right now was a very bad time to be realizing this.

 _It’s probably the only way Keith would ever realize it,_ though, he thought to himself. “Listen, Keith,” Shiro started, but Keith cut him off.

“And it’s happened before! After we were sucked into the wormhole, and all of us were separated, I was worried for all of you, but every time I thought about Lance, I’d just -- it was like I couldn’t breathe. And it hurts, and I feel weak, and awful, and I just...I want to know that he’s safe.”

Shiro took in a breath, ordering his thoughts. “Keith, I think that it’s obvious that you care for Lance, and I-” Shiro picked his words very carefully, not wanting to thrust Keith into any new revelations, but apparently Keith wasn’t done, as he simply bulldozed over Shiro.

“And it’s not like the crush on Lance is a new thing, but I didn’t know that it had gotten so bad!”

_Wait, what?_

“Wait, what?” Shiro repeated his own thought, flabbergasted. Keith finally paused, probably more to take a breath than anything else, but he stayed silent when he saw the look on Shiro’s face. Keith sighed heavily, laying his hands over his lap and staring at them intently, as though the right move would be written on them.

“I didn’t want to tell any of you, least of all Lance, because I wasn’t sure how you’d react, and I didn’t want to be responsible for breaking the team up. I just wish I knew what to do now, because he’s gone, and I don’t know that I’ll ever see him again-” 

Shiro grabbed Keith’s shoulders, turning him so that they faced each other. “Listen to me, Keith: we are going to find Lance, and he is going to be okay. I need you to believe that, so that we can be okay enough to make sure that it happens. Alright?” Shiro’s eyes had more emotion in them than Keith cared to pick apart, and it struck him that Shiro was hurting just as much as any of them; giving the order to not rescue one of their must have been killing him, and here Keith was, whining to him about it. Realizing that Shiro was still expecting a response, Keith nodded solemnly, and Shiro let out a grateful sigh, letting go of Keith’s shoulders. He settled himself on the bed again, unsure of where to proceed.

“I...didn’t know how you felt about Lance,” talking about that seemed, perhaps not safe, but a good way to deal with some underlying issues. Even if his voice sounded ridiculous to him, talking about Keith’s feelings in the middle of the kind of crisis they had, this seemed like something that they should talk about. Clearly Keith disagreed, because he gave a snort.

“Yeah, that’s what I was going for,” he said, resolutely not looking at Shiro. “The ideal situation was that no one would ever find out, and it would go away. But I guess that’s not happening anymore.” Keith gave a mirthless laugh before falling back onto the bed, covering his face with his hands. “This is really bad timing, isn’t it?”

“Well, you could probably have found better times, yes,” Shiro said, leaning back to smile at Keith. “But I promise you, Keith; we’re going to get Lance back, and you’ll have a chance to tell him.” His smile got wider at the look of shock and betrayal on Keith’s face, and he stood to leave, still grinning. “Because at this rate, if you don’t tell him? I will.”

He walked out of Keith’s room, leaving the Paladin sputtering behind him.

* * *

Lance figured that he shouldn’t be comfortable here. Walking through what was literally the stronghold of his worst enemies, seeing dozens of pairs of glowing yellow eyes stare at him from the dark purple hallways, knowing that he was going to an audience with one of the most powerful creatures in the known universe. And yet, striding confidently with his Bayard dormant at his side, his mind felt clear and bright, and everything made sense.

He’s going to become strong. And Zarkon can do that.

The Galra general beside him, Prorok, seemed uncomfortable with his presence. Lance gave him a brief glance before setting his eyes forward again. He should have some witty quip, some clever remark to make, but nothing came to mind. He felt like this was a turning point in his life, and maybe he should treat it as such. He did notice that Prorok’s eyes were constantly darting towards him though, and specifically towards his weapon. Lance felt a smirk pulling at his lips, and he briefly considered picking up the Bayard and spinning it in his hand, but decided against it. They’re all tense enough already, watching his gleaming Paladin armor move through the hallway. 

And why shouldn’t they? He knows that he’s a glorious sight. White armor, accented with glowing blue symbols and shot through with streaks of azure crystal along the limbs and breastplate; he felt like a god walking among mortals. His eyes caught one of the Galra soldiers’ gazes, and the soldier stiffened before turning away and running. Lance’s smirk got a bit bigger watching it.

It’s good to be feared.

 _It is right that you are feared,_ his Lion purred in his mind. _You wield one of the five most powerful weapons in the universe, and you do so with great skill._ Lance felt his chest swell a little at the praise, and if there was a small twinge of doubt in the back of head from Blue referring to herself as a weapon, he ignored it. 

Lance’s procession slowed as they approached a massive pair of doors, made of some material that looked like purple metal with the Galra symbol carved into it. Lance turned to Prorok expectantly, the Galra general meeting his eyes. 

“Are you ready, Paladin?” His voice had a hint of mockery in it, and it annoyed Lance, pulling a frown from his mouth. 

“Would it make a difference if I wasn’t? Open the door, Prorok.” The general bristled at being commanded, but obeyed regardless, placing his hand on the biometric scanner to open the door.

As the massive portal swung open, Lance’s eyes widened at the sight. Allura’s castle was impressive, certainly, but this was nothing short of opulent. Massive purple crystals hung in the air, shedding dim light through the chamber and illuminating the frescoes and crystal artwork that adorned the walls. Lance’s eyes swept around the chamber, taking in the detailed illustrations of scenes of warfare, of triumph, and of conquest. Each piece was immense, and it reminded Lance of cathedrals back on Earth, of stained glass windows and murals painted by masters. Yet these works, intricate and delicate with accents of crystal and metal interspersed throughout, put all of Earth’s art to shame. 

“And here we have him; your arrival has been much anticipated, young Paladin.” The raspy voice echoed from the far end of the chamber, the sound echoing in the vast chamber. Lance turned towards the speaker, seeing a robed figure standing beside a huge silhouette. He noticed Prorok and the other soldiers fall to one knee in respect, yet Lance walked forward, knowing somewhere deep inside him that he was not beneath this figure. Rather, they were equals in a way that no other person could comprehend. They were connected.

“Oh yeah? Am I everything you thought I’d be?” Lance’s smirk was audible in his voice, and he crossed his arms over his chest. The large figure-Zarkon-was still facing away from him, looking out into the vastness of space. Lance felt a twinge of annoyance that he was being ignored, but at least he had the hooded figure’s attention.

“And more,” she answered, a note of something almost threatening in her voice. Lance almost tried to pick it apart, but Blue’s soothing purring drove it from his mind quickly. “But, where are my manners? I don’t believe you’ve ever been formally introduced to the Emperor,” she turned to the large silhouette, and something in Lance’s gut twisted uncomfortably. Fear? Apprehension? Maybe even excitement. 

As the figure turned around, Lance reached up to his helmet, adjusting his visor to the low light conditions, and finally saw him clearly. He was enormous, standing easily a foot taller than Lance even before the raised platform on which he stood, and easily three times as wide. His stance was casual, relaxed even, but there was a predatory grace in the way he moved that promised a quick and brutal response to any perceived threat. The confidence made something in Lance’s hand twitch, and a part of him dared to test those reflexes. Zarkon must have noticed, because his thin lips curled slightly into something far too malicious to be called a smile.

“You have good instincts,” Zarkon said, his voice a quiet growl that moved through the chamber like a wave. “Come closer, boy.” Lance could feel the authority in his words, and somehow felt that disobedience was not only inadvisable, but impossible in the face of such a presence. He walked forward, trying to keep his steps and breath even, but the closer he got to Zarkon, the more he felt his presence, weighing down on him like something physical. When he got close enough to see the Emperor’s face without his visor, he removed his helmet and dropped to one knee; it felt easier, and besides, such a being deserved respect.

Zarkon approached him in three long steps, looming over Lance. Lance shivered in anticipation, and his hand reflexively curled around his Bayard. There was a brief, pregnant pause before Zarkon struck, his fist lashing out at Lance. With reflexes he didn’t know he possessed, Lance pushed off of the ground to jump backward as Zarkon’s hand struck the ground, his Bayard out and manifested in its new rifle form with the long barrel extended at Zarkon. He expected the battle to continue, and was surprised when instead of lunging, Zarkon started laughing. It was a rough sound, as though he was unpracticed in it.

“Very good! You have a warrior’s reflexes. I expected nothing less from Alfor’s successor. What is your name, boy?” Zarkon returned to his relaxed posture, and that guarded feeling from before was gone. If Zarkon expected Lance to attack him, he wasn’t showing it.

“Lance. Lance McClain,” he answered, his rifle still held at the ready. 

“Two names? Curious. Explain, Haggar,” he turned to the hooded figure, who looked at Lance in turn. He felt a presence prodding at his mind, and figured it was just Blue, so he projected a feeling of reassurance to her. For some reason, the hooded figure started laughing, though Lance dismissed it quickly.

“A curious Earth tradition, to go by both a given name, and a name to denote one’s family,” she explained, and Lance thought that he should have been curious as to how she knew that. Oddly though, he didn’t really care. Zarkon motioned for him to lower his rifle, and he unthinkingly obeyed, bringing it to rest against his shoulder. Zarkon turned and walked back up the steps to his dais, and beckoned Lance to follow. Again, he obeyed without question, standing at the Emperor’s left side, facing the window and seeing the immense fleet that lay in wait.

“Tell me, Lance,” Zarkon’s voice rumbled through Lance’s body like an earthquake, demanding attention. “What is it that you seek from me?”

That wasn’t a question that Lance had expected. Honestly, he’d expected to get ordered around, which is something he hadn’t been looking forward to, but he’d been ready to tolerate it. The idea of Zarkon asking something like this, and caring about the answer? He couldn’t help but feel like it was more than he’d ever gotten back with the other Paladins. Maybe there was a reason Zarkon was in charge of most of the universe.

“Strength,” he answered simply. He took care to keep his voice even and confident, not wanting to show weakness in front of the Emperor. To his surprise though, Zarkon shook his head, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Strength is not a goal, young Paladin,” he said, his voice taking on a tone that was less authoritative, and more...almost parental. “Strength is a means to an end, and nothing more. So what, then, is your end?”

Again, Lance had to pause to think. What did he want to accomplish? He thought of the things that were important to him; Hunk and Pidge, and their smiles and constant teasing, his family’s house back on Earth, with his siblings and their endless energy, with his father’s endless support, and his mother’s smiles…

“I want to protect people. I want to make sure that my home is safe,” he said finally, gripping the handle of his rifle. He felt Blue’s approving purr in his mind, but Zarkon seemed unimpressed.

“Selflessness, while lauded in stories, is not a feasible goal. Even those things are steps on a path, and not a destination. So, one final time I will ask you; what is it that you truly want?”

He was right, Lance realized. Those were things that he wanted, but they weren’t what really satisfied him. “Respect,” was his immediate answer. It seemed so simple, now that he truly thought about it. That part of him that had longed to fly, to see the stars, and return home where he was known; the part of him that had raged when he was assigned the role of cargo pilot, placed beneath so many others. That part of him that had declared war when he’d been forgotten, overlooked, cast aside, and derided as a fool. That part of him longed for recognition, to treated with dignity, to be appreciated.

“Very good,” Zarkon said, turning to face him. “The respect of others is something difficult to earn, and easy to lose. But, in that regard, I think that we can help each other,” He reached to his belt and took out a Bayard- _His Bayard, not Shiro’s_ -and a brief flash of purple light enveloped it, coalescing into a long, serrated blade. Lance tensed, but Zarkon placed it point-first in the ground, clasping his hands over it. “Lance McClain, Paladin of Voltron: I offer you a place at my side, in my army. You will serve me, as my generals and Druids do, and in return I shall offer you power, glory, and respect. I will treat you as your skill and experience deserve, and your name will be known to all. Do you accept?”

“I do,” Lance said, falling again to one knee. He felt the blade of the Black Bayard touch his shoulder lightly, and he wondered if Haggar had informed him of the Earth tradition of knighthood, because this felt awfully similar. He felt a surge of emotions at the gesture, as pride, excitement, and something else that gnawed at the back of his mind welled within him. Casting aside his doubts, he stood when Zarkon beckoned him to do so, a self-satisfied smile widening across his face. 

“I believe that you will be an excellent addition to our force. Prorok, show him to his chambers. Haggar and I will prepare his...modifications.” Zarkon’s voice dropped a bit at the last part, and Lance almost snickered at the obvious melodrama. He decided against it though. He could share that with...he blinked, clearing his head. Share it with who? Not the people he’d left behind. He could barely even remember their names.

He nodded to Zarkon and Haggar respectfully as he turned away, letting Prorok lead him out of the audience room. Once the doors had been closed behind him, he released a breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, relaxing for the first time since entering the room. Prorok gave him a look somewhere in between understanding and scorn, and Lance wondered how such contradictory emotions came across so well on Galra faces. Instead, what came out of his mouth as they started walking was:

“Are your ears like, cat ears, or bat ears?” He pointed up at Prorok’s ears as he spoke, and as if answering his question, Prorok’s ears perked up slightly.

“Are my ears what? What is a cat?” Oh yeah, that would make the analogy hard to get.

“Hmm, how about this; do your ears hear super well, or do they mostly just show how you’re feeling?” Lance had a terrible urge to reach up and grab Prorok’s ears, but he figured that wouldn’t be well received. Instead, he showed his point by grabbing his own and twisting them back and forth. 

Prorok looked like Lance had just insulted his entire lineage. “Galra ears are perfectly functional, thank you. Your own seem pitifully small, and rather hideous.” Okay, that was just low. Lance gasped in mock offense, putting a hand over his heart.

“Why does everybody rag on my ears all the time? My ears are just fine, you jerk!” He put his hands over them, as if to shield them from insults. “Don’t worry, you’re beautiful just the way you are,” he said to his ears, consoling them. Prorok looked disgusted.

“By the Emperor, how are you a Paladin of Voltron?” his voice was flat and dull, as though Lance was draining him of all capacity for emotion. Wouldn’t be the first time.

They had reached an intersection, and Prorok looked around, as though checking for witnesses to see him kill Lance. There was fortunately a patrol passing by, so Lance was spared, and Prorok turned to face him with a grimace.

“Turn down this hallway, then the second left. Your room will be the second door on the right,” He began walking away almost immediately, as if eager to be out of Lance’s company. Lance couldn’t imagine why.

“Hey, hold up! You’re just leaving me here? That hurts, buddy. I thought we were bonding, you and me.” Clearly that was the wrong thing to say, as Prorok stiffened, turning back to Lance with an expression of disdain on his face.

“I would never bond with a human. Go to your chamber and await further orders,” Prorok turned back around and stomped down the corridor, leaving Lance too stunned to stop him. So, clearly the concept of ‘bonding’ meant something very different to a Galra, and Lance should be careful about using it in the future.

But he’d probably say it all the time to Prorok, just to mess with him. He had to have some fun, right?

As he walked down the hallway alone-Prorok had said down this way, then...left, maybe-he began whistling tunelessly. He didn’t really feel welcome in the Galra fleet, yet at least, but at least his eyes had finally adjusted to their weird purple lighting scheme. He stopped in the hallway to reach up to one of the floating crystals responsible for what dim light there was, and found that it was somehow anchored to its point in space. _Man, that would have driven Pidge crazy,_ he thought, then blinked, suddenly confused. Why had he been thinking about Pidge? And why wasn’t she…

His distracted state was apparently what someone had been waiting for, and he collapsed to the floor as a force slammed against his side, accompanied by some kind of roar. He grunted as his assailant maneuvered him onto his back on the ground, looking up into the hateful yellow eyes of a young-ish looking Galra soldier. In retrospect, he probably should have expected something like this, and it was little surprising that it wasn’t Prorok doing it.

“The Emperor may have accepted you, outsider, but we still haven’t!” The soldier said, spitting in Lance’s face. He looked to the side to where his helmet had fallen, unconcerned, until the Galra grabbed his face and forced him to look at his attacker. “At least have the decency to look at the one who will kill you, boy.”

“D’you really think Zarkon will be all that pumped when he figures out you’ve killed his new recruit? He doesn’t seem the type to go for that,” Lance said conversationally. By the Galra’s twitching ears, he guessed it was getting to them, but he couldn’t really tell. Galra faces were weird.

“The Emperor will see your weakness once I have killed you, and he will praise me for exposing you as the garbage you are!” Lance actually rolled his eyes at that, and the Galra gave a roar of indignation before raising their hand, preparing to strike down at Lance. _Alright, enough playing around._

Lance let a smirk play across his lips as he leaned his head to the side, the Galra’s fist hitting the floor. He brought his leg up suddenly, catching the Galra right between the legs. He didn’t know if they had the same equipment there that humans did, but slamming a knee anywhere still hurt. Sure enough, the Galra winced and relented its grip some, allowing Lance enough room to swing his leg up and across, wrapping it around the Galra’s waist. He grinned right before pulling them to the side, pushing up to his knees in the same fluid motion.

The Galra gave a very satisfying yelp as Lance threw himself over them, pulling out his Bayard and activating its spear form. The blade manifested no less than a few inches from the Galra’s throat, and Lance surveyed the rest of their crew. No less than four other soldiers, none of whom seemed terribly keen on intervening anymore. Likely the one Lance was now on top of was their leader; how convenient.

_Show them the error of their actions; show them why you are a Paladin._

Lance pressed the blade of his spear to the Galra’s throat, drawing a thin line down to its...collarbone? Did Galra have collarbones? He grinned when he heard his captive whine in fear, and he decided to have a little fun. 

“So, you all got mad that your precious Emperor didn’t kill me, so you thought you’d do the job instead? Come on, we’ve been kicking your sorry tails all over the universe for months now, and you really thought you could take me one-on-one?” Lance kept his blade pressed on his would-be assailant’s throat for another brief second before pulling it away, turning it around to use it to pull himself back up. He swung the blunt end around to pick up his helmet, dropping it in his hand as he surveyed the assembled soldiers, all of whom were staring openly at the blade of his spear.

Lance allowed himself a chuckle before gesturing with the spear at the end of the corridor. “Go on then, shoo.” If the words were unfamiliar, the sentiment was not; all four of the Galra turned tail and ran immediately, leaving the one on the ground. Lance turned back to them, a smirk on his face. “Not all that loyal, are they? Doesn’t look like they spared you a second thought.”

“If you’re going to kill me, please stop taunting me and do it,” they lifted their head to expose their throat, which seemed to be both an act of submission and a challenge to Lance. He tilted his head in thought before deactivating his spear, ignoring the Galra’s stare of disbelief as he extended his hand to help them up.

He smirked as they grabbed his arm, and he hauled them upright. “Nah,” Lance said, noting the Galra’s long, lean form and coloration, a slightly darker purple than the others. “You don’t seem to all that bad, except for the whole ‘trying to kill me’ thing. What’s your name?”

They shifted uncomfortably at the question, clearly put off by Lance’s decision to not kill them. “Zeltra,” they-she?-muttered, eyes downcast.

“Alright, Zel. Maybe I’ll see you around later? I think I need to go get prepped and prettied for our all-powerful Emperor, but I’m sure I could squeeze in some time for you later. Maybe we could get to know each other better.” Lance leaned in as he spoke, leaning his weight heavily on his spear as his eyebrows waggled suggestively. When the Galra’s scowl deepened, he figured that eyebrow-waggling was not universal.

“Your decision to show me mercy does not mean that I am indebted to you, human,” she said, and much like with Prorok, the word ‘human’ sounded more like an insult than a plain noun. “Nor does it indicate that I will cease in my efforts to expose your weakness to the Emperor,” she snarled before storming past him, leaving him alone in the hallway.

“Good talk!” He called after her. “Puta,” he said much quieter, though he guessed that she wouldn’t know the meaning of the word anyway. As he walked to his room, he wondered if Zarkon would allow him to choose a squad for himself. He figured he’d need someone unafraid to challenge him, and she’d be a good substitute for...for someone. A flash of long dark hair passed through his head, and he forgot what he’d been thinking about. 

As he walked into his room, Blue’s purring started back up in his mind, and he relaxed as he removed his Paladin armor. He quickly surveyed his surroundings as he hung the armor on hooks, noting the lack of decor. It was a plain bed in one corner, with a closet across the room and another door that Lance hoped led to a bathroom. He sat down heavily on the bed, his mind suddenly racing as he began processing what exactly it was he was doing. Leaving Voltron, swearing allegiance to Zarkon, fighting _with_ the Galra instead of _against_ them, and he’d just flirted with one of them. 

Groaning, he clutched his head and fell back on the bed, rubbing the heels of his palms into his closed eyes until stars popped against the black of his eyelids. Whatever it was he was doing, it was something he’d have to see through. His pride would allow no less.

He tried to relax as Blue’s purring settled in his mind, lulling him into something approximating sleep. His last thought as oblivion claimed him was that he was finally somewhere he belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! These past few chapters have been a wild ride, and I have no intention of letting up. I remain appreciative of all comments, so please continue to show your love! And if you'd like to come yell at me in person, you can find me at disappointedcheesecake.tumblr.com
> 
> See y'all next chapter!


	5. Covered In the Color, Pulled Apart at the Seams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from Halsey's "Colors"
> 
> So, this chapter is a little late! Sorry about that, y'all, but I promise I'm making it up to you! I'll be too busy Sunday for an update, so I'm posting two chapters today! I hope you all enjoy!

“Keep moving, Keith!” Shiro’s voice came across as commanding, even through the radio’s static. “There are still a dozen ships on your tail, and we need you to take out the battleship’s ion cannon before it fires again.”

Keith grit his teeth as he pulled Red down into a nosedive, his stomach plummeting as he finished the loop to come up behind the Galra drones. Red opened her mouth and fired a long sweep of the burning ray that Keith thought of much like a sword. It seemed like one when it swung out from Red’s jaws, cutting effortlessly through Galra spacecraft. He let out a triumphant cheer as he passed through the wreckages, concentrating his willpower to conjure Red’s ultimate weapon.

He felt a satisfying growl from Red as the weapon Lance had dubbed the “Badass Cannon” manifested on Red’s back, and a blast nearly as big around as the Yellow Lion shot forth, punching a hole in the battleship’s main cannon. He heard cheering from the rest of the team as the ship’s cannon collapsed in on itself, and let himself watch as the Yellow and Black lions battered the ship’s sides relentlessly. Warning lights shone in the ship’s sides as emergency escape pods were released from it. Keith let them go, his eyes searching for their true target as the battleship began to detonate. 

“I don’t see any of those bulky ships. Any luck on your end, Keith?” Pidge’s face popped up in his viewscreen, and Keith settled for shaking his head in lieu of a response. Pidge scowled but didn’t comment further. They waited for Hunk and Shiro to rejoin them before flying back in formation to the Castle. Keith could tell they all wanted to say something to him, but couldn’t find a good way to break the tense silence. _And honestly, that’s just fine_ , he thought bitterly. He didn’t really want to hear any more useless platitudes.

Allura greeted them in the hangar when they touched down, each of them climbing out of their Lions. Keith got some small satisfaction from the fact that they at least all looked as worn out as he felt.

“No luck this time, then?” She said, her voice apprehensive. Shiro shook his head at her, and her expression fell just the slightest bit. It wouldn’t have even been noticeable, except that it was so familiar by this point.

Pidge made a beeline to her computer setup, immediately nestling herself in the nest of cords and wires that made up her makeshift terminal. “There must be some kind of signal that I can track, something unique about them. Hunk, are you sure that you don’t remember anything else about that ship?”

Keith groaned as Hunk described the weird, bulky Galra ship for what felt like the fiftieth time. That one factor was the only thing any of them could think of as standing out when Lance had vanished. Trying to tune them out, Keith stalked back to Red’s front-left leg, pulling a marker out of his suit and drawing another blue line. The twenty-seventh, he noted with some distaste.

A hand gently gripped his shoulder, and he turned to see Shiro behind him. Keith’s frown deepened when he saw the look of genuine concern on Shiro’s face. What he needed right now wasn’t pity, it was to find some kind of clue, or some trail that would lead them to Lance.

“Keith, I think you need to rest,” Shiro said, echoing a thought that Keith hadn’t allowed himself to really consider. “You look unsteady on your feet, and you won’t be any good in a fight for much longer-”

“Not until I find him!” Keith cut Shiro off, rounding on him. Shiro had a good four inches on Keith, but it didn’t seem very significant when Keith advanced on him, fists clenched so tight that his nails were cutting into his own skin. Shiro took an instinctive step backwards before holding fast. “Lance is out there somewhere with the Galra, who are doing God only knows what to him, and I would have thought that you, of all people, would understand that we need to find him now!” 

Shiro flinched slightly at Keith’s words, but he didn’t back down. “Keith, it’s been a month since Lance was taken. We’ve spent every day so far hunting down Galra patrols for any trace of this new ship of theirs that Hunk barely remembers seeing, and we’re all exhausted, most of all you. I know that you’re used to pushing yourself hard, but you’re starting to shut down. You nearly blacked out during training yesterday, you’ve skipped dinner for at least three nights in favor of staring at star charts...we’re all worried about you.”

Keith fumed at Shiro, in large part because he couldn’t deny any of his claims. He was shutting down, and he knew that he’d been ignoring the team lately. But he couldn’t understand why none of them saw how necessary it was that he do it. How incredibly dangerous it was that they were leaving Lance in the enemy’s hands for this long, how the fact that it had already been thirty-two days, twenty-seven Galra patrols, and exactly zero progress was unacceptable.

“We all wanna get Lance back, Keith,” Keith felt himself deflate as he heard Hunk’s calming voice behind him. “But I don’t think this is helping. I don’t...I don’t think he’d want us to be killing ourselves looking for him.”

“Of course he wouldn’t want us to be trying this hard!” Keith saw Hunk flinch, but he couldn’t stop the yelling that came out of his mouth. “Knowing him, the idiot that he is, he’d probably tell us to stop completely because he wouldn’t think he’s worth the trouble! But every day that we leave him alone with them is another day that they hurt him, or torture him, or, or...change him.”

He fell silent, the entire hangar deathly quiet as his statement hung in the air. He looked up to see five faces staring back at him with varying degrees of shock and dismay. As his anger faded and was replaced quickly by shame at his outburst, he muttered an apology and dashed out of the room, ignoring the sound of his name being called. 

He found himself at his room and he quickly slammed the door shut, leaning against the door as he breathed heavily and shallowly. Was this who he was now? Someone who went off on his teammates when they were trying to help him? Someone who fell to pieces when the universe threatened to take away someone close to him? He hated to admit it to himself, but it had been so much easier back when he’d had no one close to him, because at least then there had been no one to lose.

He staggered to the bed, throwing himself on it as exhaustion claimed him. He didn’t even bother taking off his armor before his eyelids felt far too heavy to keep open. Surely it wouldn’t be so bad if he were to take just a small nap…

The shadows around him were long and twisting, moving far more than they had any right to. He looked around, startled and afraid, but he was somewhat concerned to realize that he wasn’t afraid for himself. But he knew that he was looking for someone, that he was scared for them, that if he could find them everything would be okay. 

He was running. Shadows loomed high over him, resembling trees and towers and buildings and none of those things. He heard a noise in the distance, low and sad and desperate. He ran towards the noise but his legs weren’t working, they couldn’t carry him, they wouldn’t carry him. But the ground still moved under him and it brought the noise closer, until he saw it.

A figure of blue, trapped in a glass cage. The figure held its face in its hands, weeping, sobbing, crying out in despair. Keith tried to yell to get its attention but his voice didn’t work, instead of words all that came out was fire. He didn’t want to burn the figure couldn’t hurt the figure just wanted to protect the figure so he stopped, shut his mouth, refused to speak again. He would be silent forever if it would keep the blue figure safe.

The blue boy _Keith knew it was a boy couldn’t say how_ cried out, his voice shattering Keith’s ears shattering Keith’s heart and Keith saw other figures around the glass cage. Whenever the boy cried a shard flew out of the cage and impaled a figure and they fell on the ground and didn’t get back up. Keith almost yelled but the fire was still there and he knew he couldn’t hurt the boy. He clapped his hands over his mouth but couldn’t stop the tears as he saw more glass fly out, more figures fall, but the cage never went away, the boy was never free. The cage just got smaller, crushing him, hurting them both, and he knew that the boy would never be free. 

Keith shook his head but couldn’t turn away couldn’t keep looking as people kept dying, the boy kept crying, and if Keith could just say his name could just remember his name could just _save him_ -

“Lance!” Keith jolted upright in his bed, hand outstretched to reach for something he couldn’t see anymore. The sudden movement nearly knocked Hunk to the ground from where he’d been standing, holding a tray of food. They froze, staring at each for a brief moment before Keith slowly retracted his arm.

“You uh...wanna talk about anything?” Hunk said slowly and cautiously, as though was he was pacifying a wild animal. Keith narrowed his eyes and looked down at his bedsheets, feeling the soreness return to his limbs. Sleeping in his Paladin armor had not been a good idea.

“How long was I asleep?”

Hunk put the tray of food down before answering. “Uh, a couple of hours. We didn’t wanna wake you because we figured it’s the most sleep you’d gotten since...you know.” Keith flinched, knowing exactly what Hunk refused to say. And for some reason, the fact that Hunk was refusing to say it out of concern for Keith’s feelings when it was him who was Lance’s best friend was infuriating to Keith. Why was Keith so much more affected by this than Hunk?

 _Nothing for it but to ask_ , he thought bitterly. “How are you so calm about this?”

He hadn’t expected a bitter laugh in response. It was such an alien sound from Hunk that his eyes widened in response, though Hunk didn’t seem to notice. “How can you even...no, you’ve been out of it. I’m not calm, Keith. I’m not okay at all. The idea of Lance in their hands, being subjected to whatever awful things it is that they do, I can’t even begin to say what it’s doing to me.”

Keith leaned in as Hunk spoke, filled with the urge to reach out, to show solidarity in some way. He couldn’t bring himself to bridge the gap though, his eyes still wide as Hunk went on. “But I know that freaking out isn’t gonna help. Wherever Lance is, he needs us. He needs us to be strong, and focused, and healthy, and okay enough to help him. Because he’s...I think he’s been going through a lot, and we haven’t been there for him.”

That was the first time Keith had heard of that. The curiosity must have been showing in his expression because Hunk sighed and continued. “Lance is homesick. And I know that all of us miss Earth, but like, none of us have as much to miss as Lance does. His immediate family alone is like, nine people, and he used to have weekly dinners with his extended family. He used to invite me to them all the time, ‘cause my folks worked a lot, so I knew them all by name. Took me forever, but I learned everyone’s name.”

“You grew up together?” Keith found himself asking. They’d been living together on this ship for who even knew how long, but he had never known any of this. 

Hunk nodded, smiling fondly. “My dad was military, so we moved around a lot, but he ended up stationed in Cuba when I was about seven. That’s where I met Lance, and we’ve been basically inseparable ever since. He’s been getting me into trouble for a decade now, the jerk.” Hunk’s eyes began to swim with tears when he mentioned Lance’s name, and Keith found himself at a complete loss for what to do. He’d been so focused on himself, on finding Lance, on pushing everyone to their limits that he’d never considered what the actual consequences of that might be. Now it was staring him in the face, and he was helpless to react.

“Do you think that’s why he acts the way he does?” Keith ventured slowly, his voice uncharacteristically timid. He was sailing in unfamiliar waters, talking to Hunk about feelings, but now that the conversation had started Keith found that he didn’t want to let it go.

Hunk’s brow furrowed at the question. “What do you mean? What way that he does?”

“How...obnoxious he is all the time. He’s always shouting, or joking, or freaking out. He’s never still.”

“Ah, that. I just kind of think of that as being just, you know, Lance. I think he always had to fight for attention as a kid, so he still does that now. I think he just wants people to notice him. It’s why he got so upset when you didn’t remember him.” 

Keith’s brow furrowed when Hunk said that. “Didn’t remember him? When did I…” He searched Hunk’s expression, so full of genuine kindness, for an answer. How could he have forgotten someone as annoying, as loud, as eye-catching as Lance?

“Uh, when we rescued Shiro? You said you didn’t remember him, called him a cargo pilot, and basically dismissed him. He was super upset about that for like, months.” Hunk said it very matter-of-factly, and Keith’s eyes widened.

“Wha...I was kind of distracted! I’d just found Shiro again, and I wasn’t really thinking clearly, and that’s what he focused on? God, he’s such an idiot!” He buried his face in his hands, stifling a groan into the heel of his palms. “Was he really upset about that?” He asked, his voice still muffled by his hands.

Hunk chuckled in response, clasping a hand over Keith’s shoulder. “To put it simply, yes. Come to think of it, I don’t think he’s ever really forgiven you for it…” Hunk looked over at Keith, who was now doubled over in his own lap with actual shame and maybe even regret, and Hunk relented. He hadn’t come here to make Keith feel that bad, after all. “Okay no, I’m sorry, he’s probably totally forgotten about it. I didn’t think you’d beat yourself up about it. Is everything...okay?”

Keith bit back the urge to say that no, absolutely nothing was okay. “I don’t know, Hunk. It’s just...things are really tense without Lance. It’s hard to find a groove without him, I guess.” Hunk nodded sagely, but Keith wasn’t done yet. “I’ve just...I’ve gotten really used to him, I guess. Not having him here is...there’s something missing.”

“I know what you mean,” Hunk said, squeezing Keith’s shoulder supportively. “But I feel like you’re taking this especially hard. Is there, I don’t know, something that you maybe wanna tell me?”

Keith’s face flushed bright red at the implications of Hunk’s words, and he suddenly found his shoes very interested. “I...I don’t know what you’re-” he broke off when he looked up at the very kind eyes that were on the verge of disappointment, and the lie on his tongue immediately shriveled and died. “Yeah. I, uh, I like Lance. I have for a while, and I really didn’t, and still don’t, know what to do about it. I don’t want to tell him because I think he’ll freak out, but I think if I don’t tell him, then I’m just gonna keep freaking out. But none of that even matters, because he’s not even...are you crying?”

Keith stared in horror as thick rivers of tears flowed down Hunk’s cheeks, completely undeterred by his frantic sniffling. “That’s just so...so... _beautiful_!” Hunk wrapped his arms around Keith briefly before pulling back and holding him at arm’s length, his eyes suddenly very serious. “But this isn’t the kind of thing you can keep to yourself! Dude, you have to go for it, because even if you get rejected, at least you’ll have tried!”

Keith floundered for a second, at a loss for words. “I...yeah, you’re right. I just don’t want to lose him.”

Hunk gently shook Keith’s shoulders, his eyes still bright with even more unshed tears. “You can’t lose what you don’t have, buddy. You know what they: ‘tis better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all’.” He then pulled Keith into a backbreaking hug, drawing out a grunt of pain. Despite the initial discomfort though, Keith found that he didn’t mind it that much. The physical comfort was a welcome change.

“Paladins, to the bridge immediately! Hunk, your device has picked something up!” Allura’s voice blared over the speaker system, blazing with excitement and apprehension. Hunk released Keith immediately, jumping up and running to the door. Keith reached over and grabbed one of the ration bars he kept in his nightstand before following, shoving it in his mouth.

“Wht d’vshe ish she trmkng abert?” He asked through a mouthful of dry protein bar. 

Hunk gave him an odd look, but didn’t comment on his manners as they ran through the hallways. “Well, I still had the device that searched for the Blue Lion’s material, its element, remember? And Pidge and I did some digging, and it turns out that the Blue Lion and the Blue Armor are made of the same material, so I was able to salvage some parts from the castle to amp it up, increase the detection range, and eliminate interference. So basically, I-”

“You made a device to find Lance.” Keith said, swallowing the last of the bar. Hunk nodded, but his face was suddenly grim. _Probably doesn’t want to get his hopes up_ , Keith thought, tempering his own expectations as they ran.

Keith got to the bridge slightly before Hunk, adrenaline already pumping through his veins at the thought of a possible lead to Lance’s location. Allura was at the helm, the star chart open and revolving slowly through the room as she zoomed in on a specific point. Pidge sat in the navigator’s chair and clicked through displays, and Shiro and Coran stood by Allura, looking and nodding when Hunk and Keith ran in. 

“What’ve you found?” Keith asked as he approached Allura’s station. “Hunk told me about the device.”

“You’d’ve already known about it if you’d paid attention at all for the last month,” Pidge grumbled, and Keith chose not to argue that point. She was right, after all.

“We found something very promising, we think,” Allura said, also choosing to sidestep Pidge’s comment. “Pidge, have you locked onto the signal yet?”

“Almost there…Got it!” Pidge hit a few of the holographic keys and the image on the star chart magnified drastically. But it wasn’t a sight any of them were hoping to see.

Five ships, distinctly of Galra design but unlike any they’d seen before were darting around a small cruiser. The five ships moved in flawless formation, gracefully avoiding what small firepower the cruiser had as their own weapons tore chunks out of the larger vehicle.

“Picking up a distress signal!” Pidge said frantically. “The ship they’re attacking is hailing anyone nearby for aid, I think it’s a merchant vessel!”

“Then why are the Galra attacking it?” Shiro said, seeming to be thinking aloud more than anything else. 

Allura gripped the controls tightly, glaring at the image in front of her. “It doesn’t matter. As Paladins, you are sworn to help those in need.” As if suddenly recalling what their original purpose had been, she turned to Pidge. “The signal, is it…”

“It’s on that ship,” Pidge confirmed, frowning. Though she didn’t say anything specific, they all knew exactly what she meant; Lance was on that ship.

“How fast can you get us there, Allura?” Shiro asked, but his eyes were focused on the image in front of them. Keith clenched his hands into fists to stop them from trembling, and he looked over to see Hunk doing the same. 

“Get in your Lions,” was her response. All four Paladins immediately jumped into action, leaving Coran and Allura alone in the bridge.

“I pray this isn’t another dead end,” Allura whispered, looking over at Coran. “I don’t know if they can handle it.”

“They’re stronger than they look, Princess,” he said in reply, his eyes sadder than she’d seen since they awakened. “We just have to trust in them. All five of them.”

The mood was somber as the four Paladins made their ways to their respective Lions, yet charged with an undercurrent of excitement that they hadn’t felt in a month. The idea that on this ship might be the person they’ve been searching for is something that filled each of their minds, but that they dared not speak aloud as though for fear it would become untrue.

“Good luck, Paladins,” Allura said through the intercom, and they all nodded solemnly. She turned off the communications before whispering, “Whether or not you find him.”

The Lions approached the hapless merchant vessel in perfect formation, and the Galra fighters reacted immediately. They broke away from their engagement with the trade ship, careening away like the points of a star before looping back around in an attempt to get behind the Lions.

The four Lions turned to face the attackers, but the Galra ships stopped in space, hovering as they face the Paladins. “Wh-what’re they doing?” Hunk asked, trying to keep his voice steady. Shiro was about to answer him when static filled all of their cockpits, drowning them in noise.

Keith heard screaming over it as Pidge and Hunk freaked out, but he grabbed his controls tighter, Red’s tail coming up in preparation to fire. Right as he’d locked on to the middle target, the static stopped, replaced by a shaky image of a figure in a purple helmet that bore the insignia of the Galra Army over the face, with no discernible visor. The helmet bore stylized points on the sides, likely to imitate Galran ears, and the head was tilted to the side, as though contemplating the Lions and their pilots.

“You can have the ship,” a voice crackled through their radios, heavily modified slightly muffled. “We got all we need from it.” There was a definite note of triumph in his voice that made the hairs on the back of Keith’s neck stand up. He didn’t know who this guy was, but he didn’t like him at all.

“Who are you?” Keith heard Shiro ask, but his attention was focused solely on the masked pilot. The pilot laughed but didn’t answer otherwise, cutting out their feed instantly. As if on cue, and probably by the masked guy’s command, the five ships turned around and left, moving at a speed that Keith wasn’t sure the Lions could match. He clenched his controls tighter, blood pounding in his ears.

“-ith? Keith buddy, come on, we need to search the vessel for survivors,” Hunk’s voice drifted through the comms, startling Keith out of his thoughts. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak as he turned Red around to inspect the ship.

“Anything, Pidge?” Shiro asked, his Lion casting light over the ship. Pidge was outside of Green now, climbing onto the unmoving ship. Keith heard her horrified gasp and he hurriedly undid his straps, closing his suit’s mask to get out himself.

“The hull was breached. Maybe before we even saw them, I don’t know. The interior has already been completely evacuated, probably by the breach. The crew is…” she trailed off, but none of the others needed or even wanted her to finish. 

Keith climbed into the breach, ignoring Shiro’s command to wait. He activated his shield, both for protection and for the soft green light to illuminate his path. Pidge followed him, and he smirked a little at Shiro’s exasperated sigh. Pidge gestured for him to lead the way, a silent _after you_.

Keith nodded and began the slow trek through the ruined vessel, pushing off of walls in the zero-G environment to get around. Debris of all sort cluttered the air, slowly drifting reminders of the lives lost. Keith watched as a book passed by his head, but he was only searching for one thing. 

“Hunk, are you still getting that signal?” He asked, holding his shield out in case there was a Galra ambush waiting for them.

“Yeah, it should be further ahead in the ship. Please be okay, please be okay…” Hunk’s voice was timid, but none of the others dared to comment on it. 

“Keith, over there,” Pidge whispered, pointing with her Bayard. A soft blue light glimmered in the distance, and Keith moved immediately. Flaring the thrusters on his suit, he rocketed away from Pidge, leaving her tumbling backwards from his momentum. 

He collided with a few small objects, bits of metal and debris bouncing off of his helmet, but none of it deterred him. He could see the blue light, could see him, he was so close now…

“...Keith, did you find him?” Shiro’s voice was hesitant over the comms, unsure of how to parse the silence that had fallen. He and Hunk exchanged glances through their screens. “Keith, do you read me? What’s your status?”

For a moment, there was no response. Shiro was about to repeat himself when he heard it: a quiet sob over the radio, unmistakably Keith. Shiro saw tears start to pool in Hunk’s eyes as the sobbing got louder.

“Oh my God,” PIdge said, evidently reaching Keith. Shiro had expected bad news, but nothing could have prepared him for the image Pidge sent, captured on her visor.

The armor of the Blue Paladin, torn, bloody, and empty. Keith gripped the breastplate desperately, as though Lance could still feel it. Distantly, Shiro could hear Allura over the radio, asking for an update, demanding, pleading for her Paladins to tell her that they’d found. Somehow, Shiro found the strength to tell her.

“Lance is dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this, and I hope you enjoy the next chapter! As always, comments and kudos keep my crops fed and my skin clear!


	6. Run Into the Night With All You Have

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Bastille's "Laura Palmer"
> 
> Hey, hold up there cowpoke! If this is the first chapter you're reading today, you might be missing one! I updated twice today to make up for my late update, and the fact that I won't be updating this Sunday. So go back and read Chapter 5, if you haven't yet! Otherwise, enjoy!

Lance didn’t think that he’d ever felt more alive.

He braced himself as Zeltra’s leaping charge slammed her blade into his spear, grinning as he twisted the weapon in his hands to knock her off-balance. Her sword slid down the smooth length of the spear, sparks flying from the friction. He flourished the haft as her sword slid off, knocking her in the face with the butt of the spear with enough force to send her to the ground. Another member of Lance’s new squad, Kijur, charged at him with a yell and a raised sword. Lance smirked before rushing to meet him, his spear flashing and shifting into a staff broken in two places, connected by chains. He slammed the middle section into Kijur’s stomach, halting his momentum before wrapping two sections around Kijur’s leg, pulling to land the soldier sprawled on the ground. Lance grinned and nudged him with his foot.

“Aw, you’re falling for me already? That’s sweet.” Lance said, taunting him as he lifted his staff, blocking a sword that had been aimed at his face.

“You’re gonna have to get up earlier in the morning if you wanna catch me off guard, sweetheart,” He said, facing his new opponent. A veteran Galra soldier named Eshkith, she was tall, heavily muscled, and a brilliant strategist, or at least so Haggar had told him when she had assembled his squad. As he struck back against her, his weapon re-shifting into its spear form, he felt himself falling into an oddly familiar rhythm. His spear clashed with her blade, drawing back to duck under her swing, thrusting forward to be parried, meeting in the middle when they both swung for each other’s hearts. He wondered if anything had felt so comfortable.

Their dance was interrupted when Zeltra swung at him from behind. _Flow like water_ Lance twisted his body, fitting into the small space between Zeltra and Eshkith’s blades, spinning as he dropped to the ground. His torso arched as he continued to spin, hurling his legs out in a familiar, dance-like move to catch both of his attackers in the stomach. Eshkith staggered back and Zeltra fell to the ground as Lance sprung back up into a ready stance, enjoying the wide-eyed look Eshkith was giving him. To impress a Galra veteran was no small feat.

“You’d be dead in a real combat situation, _Captain_ ,” a slow, drawling voice called from the side of their arena. Lance turned to see the fourth member of his squad, a sniper named Vell, resting languidly against one of the pillars that dotted the facility’s training room. Vell had a lazy smile on his face, and as he lounged under one of the brightest lights in the room, Lance mentally noted another bullet point in the “Galra are space cats” box. The theory that they were space bats was still winning, though.

“In a real combat situation,” Lance grunted as Kijur attempted to shoulder check him in his distraction, “I’d have you four covering me, and vice versa,” he swept his blade at Kijur’s legs, who hopped over it easily and was subsequently knocked out of the air by Lance’s kick, “as opposed to this one-on-four nonsense that Haggar is making us do. I swear, sometimes she’s worse than-”

Blue’s growling filled his mind, and he felt a very familiar thrill interrupt his thoughts. He crouched low to the ground, ducking under Zeltra’s sword before launching himself forward. Holding his spear out at knee-height, he swept Zeltra’s legs out from under her, spinning upright as he swung his polearm around his body, bringing the momentum to bear in an overhand swing at Eshkith. Though she blocked the strike, the sheer force behind it sent her reeling, wide open for Lance’s follow-through swing. The growling got louder as his spear slammed into her breastplate and sent her reeling back. He immediately shifted his spear back into its crystalline rifle form, aiming it dead center at Vell.

“Still dead, then?” Lance asks, eyeing Vell’s startled expression. There was no humor in his expression as he gazed down the scope, picking out hints of fear in the Galra’s face. The other three combatants lay groaning on the floor, picking themselves up as the sound of slow clapping filled the room. Lance looked up to see Haggar walking in, her methodical steps clicking softly on the hard floor. 

“Impressive, little lion,” she practically purred, and Lance suppressed a shudder at her voice. “To incapacitate three soldiers so efficiently shows that you are coming along quite nicely. Approach me.” 

Her tone allowed no room for objection, so Lance walked towards her, deactivating his Bayard. She held out her hand expectantly, and he fell to one knee and pressed his forehead against it in a show of respect that they’d compromised on. Similar enough to Earth traditions to make him feel at ease, and close enough to the Galra to be recognized for what it was. Her thin lips pressed into a facsimile of a smile.

She turned her hand palm up, gesturing for him to rise. “Show me your Bayard, little lion. That staff was a new weapon, was it not?”

His face broke out in an excited grin. “Yeah! It’s from Shritell, I think. At least, it feels like her. It’s weird, I assumed that hers would have been bladed, but I guess she wasn’t as violent as she looked in the crystal.”

“I said to show me, not tell me.” Haggar’s voice had a note of warning to it, and Lance winced.

“Y-yes, ma’am.” All traces of the confident squad leader from before were gone, stripped away before Haggar’s gaze. He held up his Bayard and conjured images of his predecessors, feeling them flash in his mind as traces of emotions, and fleeting thoughts. Shritell felt like burning passion, the need to protect, driving him forward until his body shut down. Drawing that out, he channeled it into his Bayard, feeling it burn with blue light, darker than his usual azure, into the three-section staff that had taken Kijur down.

“Truly fascinating,” Haggar whispered. “That a people as peaceful as the Alteans could create such a powerful and malleable weapon...show me its other forms, little lion.” He nodded, acutely aware of his squad staring at his hands as he reshaped the Bayard. 

The easiest by far to conjure was Alfor’s. His feelings of obligation, nobility, kindness, a warmth that threatened to swallow Lance whole flowed comfortably through his mind, shaping his weapon into his spear _it’s not mine it doesn’t feel right,_ Lance flinched as an odd feeling crossed his mind, but Blue’s gentle purring drove it away quickly. Haggar gestured for him to continue.

He closed his eyes in concentration as Zimmith filled his consciousness, her gentle heart and indomitable will came into focus. She reminded him of someone he couldn’t quite place. Her weapon came easily as well, a longbow nearly six feet in length. Lance had little use for this one, but its ability to form arrows out of his will had delighted Haggar. Lance dismissed it quickly when he felt another odd feeling come along, like something was missing.

Miral was next, his blades requiring more concentration. Lance gripped the Bayard with both hands as he focused on the Altean’s clear mind, his discipline and razor focus cutting through Lance’s doubts. The Bayard separated into two distinct blades, gently curved like ocean waves that Lance had to focus to remember. He looked at Haggar, as though asking permission to stop, but her gaze demanded at least one more.

He sighed in resignation. He hated conjuring his own weapon when he didn’t have combat to distract him. He held the Bayard gingerly, as though it would bite him, and focused on his own mind, trying to ignore the rush of unwelcome memories. A feeling of helplessness, of a boy trapped in space with no escape and no family and no one to fight for _no one to fight for him_ and a thousand words dying on his tongue unspoken. He gasped as his rifle formed in his hands, woven of blue crystal and silver metal. 

He missed the grin growing on Haggar’s face.

“Very good, little lion. Four forms in so little time is far more than most Paladins. With enough training, you may even attain Zarkon’s level one day,” she paused, noting the look of discomfort on Lance’s face. “Does something trouble you?”

“What? No! Well, not exactly, it’s just…”

“Spit it out boy, I haven’t the time for your babbling.”

He flinched as if struck, but continued. “It’s just, the last mission a week ago that we went on. Where I discarded my old armor. Was that really...was that necessary?” The eyes of his squad were a physical presence at his back, and he couldn’t tell if they were supportive or condemning.

Curiously, Haggar’s gaze softened as she looked at him. “My little lion, of course it was. For those wretched pretenders who hurt you so, what else could we do? Don’t they deserve to feel just a small fraction of the loneliness and despair that they inflicted upon you? Surely you cannot deny that it gave you satisfaction to taunt them as you left.”

And he couldn’t. A wicked smirk grew slowly across his features. “You’re right, actually. They do deserve that, don’t they? And besides,” he turned to take in the sight of his new squad, facing him with odd looks on their faces. “I have a new team.”

“That’s right, little lion,” Haggar said, walking up to his side. “And I have a new task for you. One that will truly test your abilities. If you think that you’re ready?”

Lance could never back down from a challenge. He turned to Vell, gesturing to his helmet, which was tossed to him quickly. He undid the clasps and slid it over his head, feeling the smooth metal slide over his skin like water, the interior flashing the Galra insignia before turning translucent to his eyes and showing the world around him, tinged a pale purple.

“Haggar, please. Remember who you’re talking to,” he cocked a hand on his hip, his smile audible in his voice. “I was born ready.” He attempted to ignore the voices of his squad behind him as they ruminated on whether or not human infants were born capable of anything.

Haggar’s lips curled in a sharp smile, and she nodded to him. “Then get to your fighters. Coordinates will already be in your ship’s computers.” She turned away from them and walked out, her steps as slow and deliberate as ever. 

“What, no time for a shower?” Lance called after her, knowing full well she wouldn’t answer. He turned around to his team, looking over their faces, waiting for his orders. It felt good to be in charge. “You heard the lady, kids! To the hangar!” He pointed dramatically and walked between them, hearing them fall into step behind him.

Since his bond with Blue had gotten closer and more intimate, he’d found several changes about himself. Most notably, his senses had become somewhat sharper, particularly his hearing. This occurred to him now as they marched to the hangar because he could hear the breathing of all of his new teammates, the rhythm of their footsteps, and notably the fact that one of the rhythms was off. He turned to his right and saw Vell favoring his left leg ever so slightly. Had his hearing been normal, he probably wouldn’t have picked it up. Now, the question was did he do something about it, or did he just let it go?

_What would Shiro do?_

As they reached the hallway that let out into their hangar, he held up a hand. “You guys go on ahead. Vell, a word.” He attempted to inject his words with a bit of that note of authority he recalled hearing so many times, and sure enough the other three soldiers kept moving, though Zeltra turned to glance at him as they passed. He shot some finger guns at her, and she looked either terribly offended or very embarrassed, he couldn’t quite tell.

He turned to face Vell once they’d gone, removing his helmet so he could make eye contact. “Has your injury not healed yet?” Lance said, referring to an unfortunate accident in a previous engagement, practically a training mission for them that had resulted in Vell taking a blast to his ankle. The shock registered in Vell’s face immediately, and he turned his eyes down, unwilling to meet Lance’s.

“I guarantee you that it will not hinder the mission, Captain. It is a minor injury, nothing more,” he said, but there was a note of urgency in his voice that struck Lance as odd.

“Take off your shoe, soldier.”

“Please Captain, I promise you that-”

“That wasn’t a request, Vell.”

Whether it was repeating the order or using his name, Vell sighed and sat down, fighting his boot off. He winced as he did it, which Lance took as a sign that it was worse than he’d been letting on. And though Lance didn’t know Galra physiology too well, he could tell that someone’s ankle should not be that big, or bent at quite that angle. He sucked in a breath, and Vell’s eyes widened in something resembling fear.

“A-as I said Captain, it won’t interfere with the mission, I swear! I’m still fully capable of fighting, and I will not be a hindrance, I swear to y-”

“Vell, stop,” Lance said, raising a hand. “I’m not going to stop you from coming on this mission, nor am I going to hurt you further. What are you scared of?”

The wide-eyed look in Vell’s eyes changed from fear to something closer to shock. His mouth quirked into a kind of sneer, looking off to the side. “When we’re on missions, it can be easy to forget that you are not Galra. But here, in the time between, you make it painfully obvious.”

“That’s great and all, but it’s not an answer to my question,” Lance barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes, trying to control himself. “I won’t ask you again, Vell.”

Vell turned to face him, and there was something stony in his eyes. His ears lay flat against his head, which Lance found so cute that he almost forgot to listen. “The Galra Empire values strength, and those who possess it. Those who do not are cast aside, in one way or another. When a Galran soldier proves themselves unwilling or unable to carry their own weight, they are...removed.” Lance’s eyes widened, but he made no move to interrupt Vell as he continued. “It has become rather common practice as the Empire has grown to encompass entire star systems: those who are strong are allowed to prosper, and those who are weak are culled. In this way, the Empire as a whole is kept strong, with only the best allowed to live.”

“You’re telling me that people who aren’t considered strong enough are killed,” Lance said, his voice dull as his mind raced to process the information. Lance’s face paled when Vell nodded. “That’s...awful.”

“Is it?” Vell responded, his eyes searching Lance’s expression. “It keeps the Empire strong, and that is all that matters. At any cost, we remain the greatest force in the universe.” Vell’s voice was flat, pragmatic, as though he were talking about something as routine as the weather, or maintenance on their weapons. And there was a look in his eyes that said that he’d already accepted his own death.

“That’s unacceptable,” Lance muttered, his eyes on Vell’s ankle. The fur there was singed, but the smell wasn’t the cause of the bile rising in Lance’s throat. “I will not have you afraid of me, or of your Empire. Put your boot back on, Vell. Can you walk without pain?”

Vell nodded numbly, slipping his boot on as he stared up at Lance. “I do not understand, Captain. Do you not intend to-” He broke off as Lance raised his hand.

“You said it wouldn’t be a hindrance. Was that a lie?” When Vell shook his head fervently, Lance continued, “Good. When we get back, I’ll find someone to administer first aid to your wound, or I’ll do it myself.”

Lance sighed at the look of wonder of Vell’s face, somewhere in between hope and shock. “Look Vell, I don’t want you to be scared of me. If something’s wrong, or you’re troubled, or hurt in any way, I want you to be able to come to me.” He put his hands on Vell’s shoulders, his eyes meeting the Galra’s yellow ones without hesitation. “You’re in my squad. You’re _mine_. And no one, and I mean no one, is going to hurt you without going through me. Is that clear?” Vell nodded, his eyes still wide, and Lance let a grin spread across his face. “Good. Then let’s get to the others, I’m sure they’re wondering what’s taking us.”

“You are a strange one, Captain,” Vell mumbled as Lance led him along. “But I think I could get used to it.”

* * *

Their fighters soared in easy formation, Zeltra and Kijur looping lazy circles about each other. Lance chuckled to himself, and opened communication with Eshkith. The comms systems here worked much differently than with the Lions, with requests and approval and the constant knowledge that what they said was being monitored by superiors. Which, given Lance’s new status in the Empire, meant that usually Prorok or Haggar listened in.

Eshkith’s helmeted visage appeared in the corner of his cockpit’s...windshield? _There’s a different word for that, I learned it in training...didn’t Prorok teach it to me?_

“Is something wrong, Captain?” Eshkith’s voice, as always, was clipped and professional, saying no more than was necessary. Lance had made it his mission to crack her facade, and since their original assignment together, he’d seen actual progress. He even saw her smile a few days ago.

“No, nothing wrong,” he said quickly, reassuring her. “I just wanted to talk to you, is all. Is that so wrong?”

Eshkith’s head tilted back slightly, as though surprised. “If you say so, Captain. What did you wish to discuss?”

Lance checked his scanners quickly, ensuring that their five fighters were the only things nearby before clicking a few more buttons, and the voice channel beeped once. He nodded to himself, checking to ensure that their channels were now encrypted, before speaking again. “I wanted to know more about you. When did you decide you wanted to join the army?”

“Decide?” The question seemed to confuse her, judging by her tone of voice. “I did not ‘decide’, Captain. I am an able-bodied member of the Galra Empire, and was therefore added to its military. I am not sure what you are asking.”

Lance’s smile faltered at that, momentarily caught off-guard by her admission. “You didn’t get a choice? Okay then, how about this: If you had gotten a choice, what would you have liked to do?”

The comm line was blank for a moment before she responded. “...I’m not sure that I understand the question. Fighting is all I have ever known. I was, am, and always will be a soldier, until I one day give my life for the Galra Empire.”

“I think you’d be a good gardener. You have a good eye for detail, and I can see you hacking away at weeds with a machete. Ha-ya!” Lance pantomimed swinging a blade, and Eshkith couldn’t help a curious chuckle that bubbled from her throat. Lance went still as she laughed, a grin spreading beneath his helmet. “Ah-ha! You can laugh! I knew you could do it, I knew it!” He opened up another comm channel quickly, patching through to Zeltra. “Hey buddy, guess who owes her captain ten bucks? You do! ‘Cause I just made Eshkith laugh!”

“That’s impossible!” Zeltra shot back, her eyes wide. As always, she’d discarded her helmet in her fighter, and her expression of shock was plainly visible. “Eshkith, he’s lying, right? He didn’t make you laugh!”

Eshkith nearly laughed again at the expression on Zeltra’s face. “Unfortunately soldier, it’s true. I do believe you owe him ten of these ‘bucks’, whatever those are.”

“Captain, what are ‘bucks’?” Kijur’s voice, quieter than the others, crackled onto the radio. 

“What are...they’re currency! Kinda like any other GAC, but from earth. Well, it’s slang used for American money, to be specific,” he was greeted by general noises of understanding from his team, except Zeltra who muttered about being cheated. Lance laughed to himself at what he was doing. When did he get saddled with a whole team of Keiths? 

“Captain, is something wrong?” Vell said, his voice crackling at the edge of Lance’s perception. 

“Huh? Y-yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” Something sounded off about Lance’s voice, but he couldn’t put his finger on what.

“You’re clutching your head, Captain. Are you unwell?” Eshkith’s voice was tinged with something resembling concern, and the surprise of that was enough to shake Lance out of his funk. When had he put his hands on his head? Something was messed up, but right now wasn’t the time to be thinking about it.

“Not enough to deter the mission. Come on team, we need to hurry if we intend to get set up on Ngish. I’ll race you all there!” Lance’s fighter jolted forward, its thrusters roaring as it soared off through space. Kijur and Zeltra gave offended noises as they blasted off to follow him, though Zeltra’s quickly became an excited yell.

Eshkith watched them go, an amused smirk pulling at her lips. Her console beeped, and she opened up the requested channel. She was unsurprised to see Vell’s face staring back at her. “What’s bothering you?” She asked, her tone unreadable.

“A number of things, most tellingly our new captain. He’s...very clearly not Galra.”

“What tipped you off? The round ears? The brown skin? The lack of fur?”

“The kindness.” Vell’s answer threw Eshkith off, and she whipped around to stare at his image on her screen. “He is a strange sort, and his upbringing was very different from our training. Eshkith, I find myself worrying about him, like he is some kind of child.”

“This is unlike you, Vell. Attached already to a human?” Her words carried a number of statements within them, and Vell’s pause before answering indicated that he understood all of them.

“I feel that I am. I have never had a commanding officer swear to protect me before.”

Again, Eshkith found herself thrown. “Perhaps you misunderstood him? What we know of humans from the Champion did not suggest that they are the most tightly knit of species.”

“No, he made himself very clear. And I believe that he meant it.”

“Do you think that we should report it to General Prorok? Perhaps that is a violation of his regulations,” Eshkith didn’t sound very sure of herself as she said the words. Their orders had been vague, to watch for any abnormalities in their new Captain. How were they to know what was abnormal?

“To be honest Eshkith, I would say that we leave it alone and see how he handles this mission. This will, in many ways, be a deciding moment for him. Besides, I’ve never seen Zeltra and Kijur as active as when they’re with him. Surely that must count for something?”

Eshkith allowed the question to go unanswered. Lance, their new captain, was an odd force in Eshkith’s life. He was so easy to get along with, to exist alongside, with an air about him that made her want to drop her guard. Its unfamiliarity frightened her, even as it made her crave more. The human was a dangerous force, she decided, and she would need to be careful around him.

She tried to ignore Vell’s laughter as they sped off to join their team. He had always been able to read her too well. 

And if there had been a twinge of warmth in her chest at the thought of her Captain swearing to protect his team, she did her best to ignore it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we're getting to the good parts. I had a lot of fun making up Lance's new squad, and I hoped you like them as much as I do! If you have a favorite, please tell me in the comments! This story is still very much a work in progress, so feedback can influence what I write, though I don't guarantee anything.
> 
> Thank you all for supporting me so far! I'll see you all again Wednesday (hopefully)!


	7. Woke Up, Wished That I Was Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Paladins attempt to mourn their fallen, each in their own ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience with this. For some reason, this chapter was very difficult to write, though I'm really pleased with how it turned out. Thank you for your incredible responses, the comments and kudos I've received thus far mean the world to me. I hope that I can continue to meet your expectations!
> 
> Chapter title comes from "World Spins Madly On", by The Weepies.

The chimes and lights within the castle heralded the dawning of a new ‘day’, and found a young man sitting on the edge of his bed. His short black hair was disheveled, with only the dark bags beneath his eyes a greater signifier of his sleepless nights. He raked a hand through his hair, staring down at the headband held loosely in his palm. A gift from a friend, from what felt like a lifetime ago. Memories flooded his mind of a childhood spent on the beach, the cacophony of a family larger than he’d ever known, the searing heat of food spicier than he’d ever tasted. Of a friend that promised to never leave.

Hunk clutched the headband tightly as he pressed his fist to his forehead, tears threatening to force their way out again. Teasing words about how his sensitivity would be the death of him crowded his mind until he practically heard them in his ear, as if he could look up and find _him_ leaning against his doorframe, asking why he wasn’t at breakfast yet.

The fact that he’d never hear that voice again was something that Hunk still couldn’t process.

A heavy pounding on Hunk’s door shook him out of his thoughts. Hunk stood shakily as the door opened, revealing Keith standing in the entryway. He didn’t look much better than Hunk felt, his eyes sunken and his face just a bit paler than usual. Their discovery had hit everyone hard, but Hunk and Keith were the most affected by a long shot. They’d nearly shut down for the entire day following the mission in which they’d found the blue armor. There was an odd kind of solace that they’d found in each other in the days since.

“C’mon Hunk, Shiro should…” Keith broke off, a yawn splitting his jaws open. Hunk yawned in return, and Keith gave him a knowing look. “Did you not sleep again?”

Hunk shook his head, trying to ignore the way Keith’s frown deepened. He’d heard Pidge say that Keith was impossible to read, that his only expression was a scowl, but that wasn’t true at all. Not if you took the time to actually look. Right now, the way Keith’s arms were crossed combined with the set of his shoulders and the grit of his jaw in a way that made his worry for Hunk clearer than if he’d shouted it.

“I’m functioning,” Hunk said, trying to break the tension in the room. “That’s what we agreed on, right? That we’d keep each other functioning.”

Keith nodded, his expression lightening by a fraction at Hunk’s reassurance. “Yeah. I think that we should be functioning at the dining room, though. We’ve both, uh…” Keith paused, collecting his thoughts. Hunk waited for him to finish, knowing that interrupting him wouldn’t help anything. He’d never been good at finding the right words, and since the loss, that had only gotten much worse. “We’ve both missed too many meals, I think.”

Hunk stood in lieu of answering, knowing that Keith would accept it as a response. He walked to the doorway and paused, looking down at Keith. Despite their significant difference in stature, Hunk had never viewed him as anything other than powerful, and maybe more than a little hard to approach. But right now, with his arms folded over his chest and his head just slightly bowed, he looked fragile. Like if Hunk placed a hand on him, he’d shatter into shards.

That thought is the only thing that stayed Hunk’s hand from resting on Keith’s shoulder as they walked out of the room. They took a route to the dining hall that was somewhat longer than it had to be, but nearly guaranteed that they wouldn’t run into anyone on the way over. Hunk noted with some displeasure that they’d both become very good at avoiding unwanted contact in a relatively short span of time. _That’s probably not healthy_ , Hunk thought as their steps echoed down the empty corridors.

Their path took them past the ship labs, which had become something of a haven for Pidge since the loss. Either it was far later than Hunk had realized, or Pidge was also skipping meals, or both, because when he glanced into the lab he saw her seated at a terminal, looking up at a gentle blue glow. In the center of the light, suspended by Altean technology, was the Blue Paladin armor.

Hunk couldn’t help himself; he paused at the doorway, ignoring the way Keith tugged insistently on his arm. The armor was so familiar, but had been changed since it had last been worn. The white metal was shot through with streaks of azure crystal, looking for all the world like wounds that were bleeding blue. They glowed softly with a gentle sort of light that neither Pidge nor Allura had been able to explain, and not for lack of trying.

“Pidge?”

It took Hunk a second to realize that the timid voice calling out was his own, and he seemed to process that fact at the same time that Pidge did. She turned around, and if he’d had any doubt that she was exhausted or affected by what had happened, her appearance did away with them. Her eyes were red with freshly shed tears that almost hid the bags underneath them, and she sniffled as she wiped frantically at her face with her sleeve.

She didn’t bother disguising the tremor in her voice, though. “What d’you want?” She said, turning back to the case in front of her.

“Have you eaten breakfast?” Hunk asked, feeling a sigh escape his mouth. He couldn’t tell whether it was from exasperation at Pidge’s inability to care for herself or from relief that he and Keith weren’t the only ones suffering. He felt disgusted that it might be the latter.

“I’m actually working on that,” a voice said behind them. Hunk and Keith both turned as Allura swept past them, and Hunk took a moment to marvel at how collected she was. It made a macabre sort of sense to his mind; after losing her entire planet, what was one more life lost in this war? He resented her a little bit, he thought, that she could still function so well despite having her team fall apart around her, but someone had to keep going.

“Have you two eaten yet?” Allura continued, setting a tray of food down beside Pidge. She didn’t seem to note that Pidge was ignoring it completely. When they shook their heads, she breathed out a sigh that hinted at her exasperation, but it was nothing more than a hint. “Then you should get going. It won’t do for the two of you to keep skipping meals, and I can’t bring food to all of you.” There was something fond in her smile as she regarded them, laced with a pity that Hunk didn’t care to examine too deeply.

“What are you two doing in here?” Keith asked, startling Hunk. The sound of his voice seemed to surprise Pidge and Allura just as much, judging by their expressions.

Allura chose to answer, clasping her hands together. They were shaking, Hunk noticed. “We’re attempting to discern the reasons behind the physical change in the armor. We’re hoping that it will give us some insight into what happened to L-” both Hunk and Keith flinched at the sound of his name, and Allura quickly backpedaled, “-what happened to...to the armor,” she finished weakly, turning away to face the armor. “We’d like to remove the crystal, but until we know why it’s there, we can’t do much about it. Much like the Lions themselves, the armor reacts to its wearer. I cannot begin to imagine what might have caused a reaction such as this, though.” There was an undercurrent to Allura’s words that Hunk didn’t like at all. It sounded far too much like _We need to get it ready for its next owner_ for his liking.

“We’ve noticed that each of the crystals is slightly different from each other,” Pidge said, her voice much steadier now that she was talking about a project rather than herself, “but this hasn’t really helped much. Aquamarine, sapphire, lapis lazuli, they all bear superficial resemblances to some kind of Terran stone, but they’re not. Not exactly. Their molecular structure is inherently different, but it seems like something tried to force them into a certain shape, or maybe they shaped themselves like that to conform to the wearer? We ultimately have no idea, and we’re trying to figure it out, and it’d go a lot smoother if we didn’t have any interruptions.”

The words were right, but they had none of Pidge’s usual bite to them. Her voice was flat now, spoken as though she were just reciting them. Or like she was just tired. Hunk nodded to Allura before turning to leave, Keith keeping steady pace with him as they resumed their quiet march down the hallway.

“Do you think that’ll help anything?” Hunk jumped slightly at the sound of Keith’s voice, still so much quieter than it had ever been before.

He took a second to formulate a response, still not sure how he felt about anyone tinkering with the one of the few remnants of his friend. But he knew that of all people, he couldn’t voice that to Keith. “Honestly? I don’t really know. I think that anything is better than standing around and being sad, though.” Keith nodded at that, but he didn’t look pleased with the answer. He had his hands stuffed in his pockets, and his mouth was set in a frown that was almost comforting in its familiarity.

“What are you thinking?” Hunk asked. That question had become tremendously dangerous in the past few days, or however long it had been, but Hunk still needed to ask it. He could tell that there was something on Keith’s mind, and it wouldn’t do anyone good to keep it locked away.

Keith huffed and shook his head, resembling an angry cat so much that Hunk almost laughed. But when it became clear that Hunk wasn’t accepting that for an answer, Keith heaved a sigh and relented. “I just don’t like how...final they all make this sound. Like, everything’s already been decided and finished.”

Hunk could realize a mistake when it was barreling towards him. “Keith,” he started, but Keith just huffed again to cut him off.

“No, I want to say this. I know that we found his armor, and yeah, there was blood on it, human blood, but that doesn’t...it doesn’t mean that he’s gone. We didn’t find a body, and there’s been complete radio silence from the Galra, so I find it hard to believe that he’s actually dead.” There was a terrible hope in Keith’s words that Hunk knew bordered on desperation, and he didn’t know how to stop it. “Do you understand? I know how I sound, but I swear I’m not crazy. It’s just, it’s like, I can tell. I _know_ he’s not dead, and I hate the way everyone else is so sure that he is!” Keith had stopped walking now, and was gesturing wildly as he spoke. The wild hand movements looked, to a crazy part of Hunk’s mind, far too much like his old friend’s.

One of Hunk’s arms moved instinctively over his chest, clutching his other arm like a lifeline. It was a nervous habit that he’d never quite gotten rid of. “Keith, you can’t do this,” he said quietly, unable to meet Keith’s eyes. He knew he wouldn’t like what he saw in them. “This isn’t...it’s not healthy. You can’t do this to yourself, or to any of us.”

“I can’t do this? What exactly am I doing, Hunk?” Keith’s voice sounded incredulous, and Hunk could still see his hands flailing as he spoke. He shut his eyes instead of watching anymore. “It’s all of you that need to stop, because I can’t take any more of this! All of this...this moping around, acting like we’ll need to find another Paladin, when we don’t even have his Lion, so it’s not like it’d do us any good to find a replacement!”

Hunk gripped his arm tighter, practically feeling his own skin bruise under his grip. He couldn’t handle a breakdown, not when he was so close to one of his own. “Keith, please, don’t do this. You can’t keep-”

“No! It’s not...I’m not the one being unreasonable here, Hunk! Why can’t any of you see that?!” Keith’s voice had been raising the whole time, and he was now practically shouting at Hunk. “You all want to act like he’s dead and gone, but we don’t know that he is! For all we know, the Galra still have him, and are still torturing him, or experimenting on him, or...or…” he trailed off, seeming to lose his train of thought, and Hunk jumped on what might be a chance to stop him.

“Keith, you have to stop,” Hunk said, reaching forward to gently clasp Keith’s shoulder. “Even if he’s not...gone...then he’s somewhere we can’t reach. I don’t want to accept that any more than you do, but it’s...we’re just killing ourselves if we don’t.”

Keith trembled in Hunk’s grip, and looked up with enough fury in his eyes that Hunk took an instinctive step back. “Lance isn’t _gone_!”

The sound of his name broke something in Hunk. He felt the tears streaming down his face before he even realized he was crying, but it didn’t look like it was deterring Keith at all. He was advancing on Hunk, his hand raised in some angry gesture that Hunk just knew was a threat, and he was opening his mouth to say something when a deep voice bellowed from down the corridor.

“Keith! That’s enough!”

Shiro’s voice stopped Keith in his tracks, and he and Hunk both turned to see the Black Paladin staring at them, his face an impassive mask of disappointment. He strode down the hall towards them, stopping at Hunk and offering a brief smile and squeeze to his shoulder before turning to Keith, his smile vanishing.

He hadn’t even opened his mouth before Keith interrupted him. “I know everything you’re about to say, Shiro. I need to control myself, and I can’t go yelling at people, and everyone’s sad that he’s gone but I can’t take out my anger on people. Am I right?” Keith looked up at Shiro defiantly, his eyes brimming with unshed tears in direct contrast to Hunk’s open sobbing.

“No,” Shiro said, his tone far more reassuring than either Hunk or Keith had expected. “I know you, Keith, and I know that you’re hurting, probably much more than you’re telling any of us. But you’re right; this kind of behavior is unacceptable. Keith, we’re all trying our hardest to help, but you need to-”

Shiro was getting really tired of people interrupting him, but he still stopped at the sound of Keith’s voice. “Don’t,” he choked out, his voice breaking as it fought through contained sobs. “Don’t you _dare_ say that I need to move on, because I won’t. Until I see his body, until I can feel his cold skin, I will never accept that he’s dead. Because I know he would do the same for any of us.”

Shiro and Hunk stared at him, completely at a loss for what to say. They exchanged helpless looks that only seemed to infuriate Keith further, and both Shiro and Keith seemed to prepare to say something more when alarms blared across the Castle.

All three of them jumped in surprise, and Allura and Pidge ran out of the lab. “Everyone, you’re needed on the bridge! We’re receiving a distress beacon, and it’s really close!” Coran’s voice sounded through the ship’s intercom, and the five of them rushed to meet him.

They piled into the bridge in record time, gathering around Coran. He stood in the center, magnifying the view of a nearby planetoid to emphasize the triangular symbol that denoted the beacon. Hunk had no idea what the planet was, but he’d learned to recognize the various notations that marked different biospheres. This one looked heavily forested, and judging by its distance to the nearest star, really really cold. Its two orbiting moons seemed to catch enough light from the star to give the planet some light, but not enough to give it an actual day/night cycle. If Hunk had been in a more stable frame of mind, he would likely have been fascinated about the planet’s biology. As it was, he just wanted to get this over with.

“Is that...the Zerkrata system?” Allura said, narrowing her eyes as she attempted to parse the displayed information.

Coran snapped his fingers and winked at her, a display of cheerfulness that irrationally annoyed Hunk. “Right you are, Princess! This particular system is one that has largely evaded Galra attention, likely due to the fact that most of its planets are completely uninhabited! Apparently, a scouting vessel from the Sylphe people crash-landed here, though I’m still trying to figure out why, exactly. They’re not responding to any of our hailings, so we have to assume that either their communications are offline, or-”

“Or it’s a trap,” Shiro finished. It felt good interrupting someone else for a change.

“Yes, or that,” Coran said, nodding. “But we’ve found no evidence of Galra forces in the area, and given Pidge’s recent upgrades to the Castle’s sensors,” he nodded to her, and she visibly puffed up at the praise, “we should have been able to detect any ship large enough to cause any trouble for us.”

Hunk furrowed his brow thoughtfully. “What about those new, small fighters we saw before? The ones that were there when we found...wh-when we found the armor…” Hunk trailed off, his voice cracking slightly. Pidge placed her hand on his arm gently, a comforting reminder that he wasn’t alone, though it didn’t stop a few tears from escaping.

“Not a pleasant thought, but it’s likely,” Shiro said, a thoughtful hand on his chin. “But we can’t very well ignore it, can we?” He turned to Allura and expected to see agreement on her face, but was surprised by her thoughtful expression.

Her eyes moved up to his, and there was something calculating in them. “I honestly don’t know. We’ve had such a terrible string of events recently that I’m hesitant to blindly go into this, particularly given how oddly out of the way it is. Is this planet even on most star charts?”

Shiro blinked at the curious tone of caution on her voice. “Princess, that doesn’t much sound like you. What happened to ‘Paladins of Voltron must always rise to defend the needy’?”

Hunk’s eyes moved between the two, watching their exchange with more than a little trepidation. Shiro was needling Allura, trying to provoke a reaction from her that would be more in tune with her usual self, but Hunk could easily see her point. They weren’t able to form Voltron, they didn’t even have all the Lions, they had very little information, none of them were in a good place right now either emotionally or mentally and Hunk could feel his breathing quicken and his mind couldn’t focus and he knew what was happening but that still didn’t mean he could stop it and-

“Hunk? Are you okay, buddy?” He heard Keith’s voice and tried to focus on it but that didn’t help. If anything, it made his oncoming panic attack worse, and he flinched away from Keith’s hand when it approached him.

He took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded his head, desperately attempting to rein himself in. “I-I’m...I’m okay, I think,” he said slowly, somewhat surprised that he wasn’t crying. “I think we need to do this.”

Allura looked absolutely gobsmacked. “Hunk, I think that your reaction just now proves that we shouldn’t go anywhere near that. The more I think about it, the more obvious a trap it seems, and we simply don’t have the luxury of-”

“Aren’t we still Paladins of Voltron?” Hunk interrupted Allura, his voice remarkably clear given how hard it still was to breathe. When she nodded, he looked around the room, feeling like he needed to say something to keep everyone going. Someone had to do it. “Then we still have a duty to the universe, as its defenders, and the only real force that can stand up to the Galra. We still have a responsibility, to answer each and every cry for help that we hear. We owe that to everyone.” His voice trembled more and more as he went on, but the comforting feeling of Pidge’s hand on his arm kept him going. “We owe that to him.”

Allura looked at him for a long moment, her expression inscrutable before it softened. A warm smile spread across her face as she nodded, reaching over to take Hunk’s hand. “You’re absolutely right, Hunk. I...I apologize for doubting any of you. I just don’t want to lose any more of you.” The way her voice shook ever so slightly told Hunk that she wasn’t nearly as composed as he’d thought. She just showed it differently.

“You won’t have to,” Shiro said, a hand each on Allura and Hunk’s shoulders. “We’ll check out this distress signal, and we’ll come back. All of us. Paladins?” Hunk, Pidge, and Keith snapped to attention at the commanding tone of his voice, smiles on their faces at the first sign of normalcy they’d felt in far too long. “Let’s get to our Lions.”

It was wrong, doing this without him. Seeing just four suits of armor, hearing only three other grunts as they fell into their speeders, knowing that there would be no streak of blue leaving the castle’s hangar. But Hunk moved anyway, knowing that the universe was too big to stop for any one person. Even if that person had been most of his world.

 _Might’ve been for more than just me_ , he thought as video feeds popped up in Yellow’s cockpit, showing Keith and Pidge hurriedly wipe their faces, clearing away trails of emotion that he knew he wasn’t supposed to see. Shiro pretended not to see it, so Hunk followed his lead. They’d all shed enough tears lately.

The four Lions shot out of the hangars, streaks of brilliant colors that painted the infinite black of space. Hunk tried very hard to appreciate the sight, but couldn’t stop seeing what wasn’t there, so he kept his focus on the approaching planet instead.  


“I probably should have asked earlier, but does the planet have a name?” Pidge’s voice came over the radio, and Hunk was glad for the distraction from his thoughts.

“Technically, no!” Coran responded, his voice almost annoyingly cheerful. “It’s uninhabited, and in a rather distant corner of its galaxy, so no one really cares about it. On the rare occasion it’s mentioned at all it’s simply referred to as Z-Seven, but feel free to give it a name if you like! I hear that helps humans get attached to things!”

“Everything you know about humans comes from us, Coran,” Keith said, playfully exasperated. Hunk realized that Coran was actually successfully lightening the mood as he realized that his own anxiety was dissipating. “You only know that naming things helps because Pidge named her robot, and its weird cannibalized son.”

“Rover the Second is not weird or cannibalized!” Pidge yelled in mock offense, the smirk on her lips betraying her amusement.

Keith grinned back. “It totally is, you used parts from the old Rover to make it. I don’t even know how you got those parts.”

“That’s actually a good question, Pidge. Didn’t Rover fall into one of the engines? How did you fish him out?” Shiro had one eyebrow raised as he questioned Pidge, but even he couldn’t keep a smile off of his face.

“Ask me no questions, and I’ll tell you no lies,” Pidge responded, a smug grin on her face. Hunk laughed at that, one of the first times he’d genuinely laughed in days, and before long the others were joining in.

It still felt wrong, so terribly wrong to only hear three other Paladins, to not see his wide grin in the corner of his viewscreen. But this moment was definitely on the way to being right again.

Tremors rocked their Lions as they entered the planet’s atmosphere, the sudden friction from the air heating the outside. Hunk couldn’t help but marvel at the engineering genius that must have gone into creating these masterpieces, that they could look so artful and delicate but be so effortlessly capable of withstanding tremendous pressure and damage without losing any functionality. He still couldn’t figure out how the Alteans had managed that, but one day he would.

As they broke through, Shiro’s voice came over the comms. “Alright everyone, here’s the plan: The signal is originating at the crash site here,” an image appeared on Hunk’s screen, displaying a map of a heavily forested area with one particular spot designated by the familiar Altean triangle. “Allura estimates an eighty percent chance that this is a Galra trap, so we are to keep our guard up at all times. To that end, Keith and Hunk, you two will land and disembark to investigate the crash site while Pidge and I remain in our Lions to provide air support in the event that those Galra fighters appear.”

“Wait, why am I going on foot? Shouldn’t I stay in the air with you?” Keith’s protestations sounded slightly whiny to Hunk, though he chose to blame that more on the comms system than anything. “No offense to Pidge, but if we’re in a dogfight, I think I’d handle it better.”

Shiro shook his head, and Hunk could see Keith practically vibrate with annoyance. “The Red Lion is too fragile for aerial combat in-atmosphere, and the forestation is too heavy to allow you the maneuverability you need. The Green Lion is more heavily armored and has the firepower we’d need for a dogfight, and you’re also better at hand-to-hand combat in the event that Galra foot soldiers are waiting for you.”

Keith grumbled, but couldn’t find fault in Shiro’s logic. Hunk snickered behind his hand, schooling his expression into something resembling innocence when Keith glared at him.

“All right, all right, settle down,” Shiro said, chuckling as the wreckage came into view. It was still smoking, so maybe the signal had been legit, though Hunk was hesitant to call it one way or the other. “Hunk, Keith, you two land. Pidge, stay in formation with me.”

There was a chorus of “Yes, sir!” as Yellow and Red landed softly in a clearing near the wreckage. It was still a solid walk away, but as Hunk disembarked and breathed in the fresh forest air, he didn’t think he’d mind it all that much. He fell in step behind Keith, maintaining a loose grip on his Bayard as he idly listened to Shiro and Pidge’s radio chatter.

Keith moved wordlessly, hacking through the undergrowth with his blade. It made a little more noise than Hunk would have liked, though he supposed that he didn’t really have any high ground on the topic given the constant sound of his own footsteps. Silent travel had never been one of Hunk’s strong suits.

“How are you holding up?” The sudden noise nearly made Hunk start firing, his cannon already manifested in his hands. He calmed down when he saw Keith hold his hands up in a placating gesture, and Hunk sighed.

“I’m alright. I’m not good, but...I’m functioning.” Hunk sighed as his cannon flashed yellow, vanishing into its dormant form as he resumed walking towards the crash site. Keith grunted a manner of agreement, following him.

Another long moment passed before Keith spoke again. “I wanted to apologize,” he said slowly, as if each word were fighting to get out. “I shouldn’t have...I didn’t mean to shout at you. I meant everything I said, but it wasn’t right to throw it in your face like that.” Keith kept his eyes firmly on the foliage as he spoke, but his stance was so pitiful that Hunk couldn’t help a rush of affection. If he hadn’t been so tense and still a little upset, he would’ve run to give Keith a hug.

“Thanks,” Hunk said, offering Keith a small smile. “I know that it’s...it’s really hard, trying to cope. But it’s hard for all of us. And we just need to keep marching on.” Hunk watched Keith go silent, and judged that what he had said had not been what Keith wanted to hear. He sighed and kept moving, trying to convince himself that he was doing the best he could.

His thoughts were interrupted when they came upon the smoking wreckage of the Sylphe ship. Hunk nearly teared up at the sight, recognizing the craft as a masterpiece of a ship. The ship’s design was long and sleek, clearly designed for speed in atmosphere as opposed to space travel judging by its aerodynamic shape. Fins decorated the long body, giving it a fish-like appearance that was wholly dyed a brilliant green color. Or Hunk thought it was dyed, though he considered the possibility that the metal itself might just be that color. He imagined that the sight of it in flight would be spectacular. A shame that he was seeing it grounded, and partially on fire.

“I’m going in,” Keith said, reactivating his Bayard and rushing down the slope into the crater caused by the ship’s crash. Hunk reached out and almost said something, apprehension catching his tongue before he could convince Keith to take a more cautious approach. He sighed in resignation but followed anyway, a familiar feeling pulling at his gut as he followed a friend into a very possibly life-threatening situation.

With his head start and reckless pace, Keith made it to the wreckage long before Hunk did. He placed his hand against the still-warm metal of the ship, feeling the hum of dying engines settle through him. Hunk left him alone for the moment, choosing instead to walk the perimeter of the crash site, looking for signs of survivors.

“Hunk, Keith, come in,” Shiro’s voice sounded through their helmets, but Hunk didn’t see Keith responding.

“We just reached the crash site,” Hunk said, still scanning the environment. Something didn’t feel right to him. “We haven’t seen any signs of survivors, though. Are the skies clear?”

Movement caught Hunk’s eye as Pidge answered. “Roger. Haven’t seen any signs of anything. The whole place is kinda boring, honestly.”

Pidge kept talking, but Hunk stopped listening. He was now absolutely certain that he had seen movement in the trees. He started stepping closer to the treeline, jaggedly broken where the ship’s crash had created a new clearing when he saw a brief flash of blue light. He had exactly enough time to shout a warning when a bolt of light caught him in the shoulder, knocking him back and sending a shock of white-hot pain down the entire right side of his body.

He managed to stay on his feet, wobbling unsteadily as Keith yelled something indistinct, rushing past Hunk with his sword and shield active. Hunk attempted to yell a warning through a throat that felt far too tight with pain and fear, closing his mouth when he heard Shiro and Pidge’s frantic shouting. He looked up to see purple streaks through the air as the black and green lions desperately evaded laser fire.

His head was spinning. His breathing felt tight as fear constricted his throat and seized his limbs. He needed to get moving, needed to help Keith, needed to fight but he couldn’t make himself do anything but stand and watch as something slammed into Keith, knocking him back into the wreckage. He looked to see what had done that, and was greeted with the sight of a familiar Galran Commander.

He was long and slender in weirdly familiar armor, an oddity compared to the bulk of ordinary Galra soldiers. His head, clad in the same full helmet he’d worn that day, turned to face Hunk, and tilted to the side as if in curiosity. Hunk couldn’t have forgotten that helmet if he had tried, the sight of it so inexorably tied to the discovery of the bloody armor. This was the one who’d put the armor there, who’d taunted them.

He might have been the one who killed Lance.

That thought filled his mind as his Bayard exploded into existence around his hands. The weapon usually felt so heavy, but right now it felt like a part of his body as the barrel opened fire, releasing a storm of blazing light. The Galra commander’s legs glowed a brief purple as he dashed to the side, followed by the incessant rays of yellow light that Hunk’s cannon was firing. Hunk’s aim followed the Galra as he ran the circumference of the crash site, and he realized just slightly too late that the Galra had been closing in on him during the circle. The Galra crouched and pounced, flinging himself into the air towards Hunk as his body arced into a kick aimed at Hunk’s face.

Hunk growled as he hefted his cannon, swinging the entire weapon to slam into the Galra’s side. The impact sent the Galra flying to the side, colliding with the ground heavily before he tumbled back up to his feet, displaying remarkable agility. He began slowly circling as Hunk readjusted his cannon, eyeing the Galra warily.

“W-watch out,” Keith said in between gasps, picking himself up off of the wreckage. Hunk glanced back and noted several severe scratches on the back of his armor from the jagged metal. “He has a gun, but I don’t know where it went.”

Hunk’s eyes widened as he stared at the Galra. Had they emulated Bayard technology? If so, then who knew what his gun could do. The figure, as if in response, tilted his head again and reached behind himself.

The Galra shook his head, and the sound of low laughter reached Hunk’s ears. He clutched his cannon tighter, but his grip slackened when he saw the Galra manifest the Blue Bayard from thin air.

Hunk’s rational mind switched off. Judging by the noises he heard from Keith, something between a growl and a sob, the same had happened to his friend as well. He had just enough presence of mind to register that the loud noise he was hearing was himself, yelling in rage as he opened fire again on the Galra commander. Just under the sound of his voice, there was the sound of laughter, coming from the Galra as he effortlessly dodged Hunk’s barrage. He hadn’t even activated the Bayard yet, just holding it in some kind of macabre taunt.

Keith lunged in from the side, moving like a man possessed as his blade thrust perfectly between Hunk’s bolts. Hunk maneuvered himself more to the side in an attempt to pin the Galra at the point where their attacks intersected, but the commander was moving like water, flowing effortlessly from one dodge to the next. He crouched low under a yellow bolt before springing up and around Keith’s blade, his leg glowing purple again as it slammed into Keith’s shield, sparks flying through the air as Keith was again thrown backwards. He collided painfully with Hunk’s side, throwing off the cannon’s aim and forcing the barrage to cease.

Hunk steadied Keith with one arm, staring at the Galra’s legs. “They’re prosthetics,” he whispered as he realized it himself.

“Hunk? Keith! Come in, what’s your situation?” Shiro’s voice crackled in their headsets, but Hunk could barely hear him. If both of the Galra’s legs were as dangerous as Shiro’s arm, plus the fact that he was holding a Bayard, he and Keith were in big trouble.

“We’ve engaged the Galran squad leader,” Keith said, still leaning on Hunk. “We’re in a bad way Shiro, he’s tough.”

Apparently the Galra could understand them, because he started laughing at that. “An honest compliment from you? Jeez, I feel honored.” He raised the stolen Bayard, lifting his arms into an actual fighting stance, the first he’d adopted since the fight had begun. “But honestly, I’ve barely even started yet. What say we take it up a notch?”

He flicked the Bayard, and blue light surrounded it as it formed into two silver blades, light and gently curved. For a brief moment, Hunk had hoped to see the familiar rifle, desperate for any trace of Lance, but seeing those swords dashed those dreams. Keith roared and lunged again, giving Hunk time to warm up his cannon. He just needed Keith to give him a chance for a clean shot.

Keith’s blade met the Galra’s, and Hunk could swear he heard the bastard laughing again as they clashed swords. Hunk had to give the Galra some credit as he watched their swordplay. It took someone exceptional to be able to keep up with Keith. “That’s right, you monster, just keep laughing…” Hunk muttered to himself as he lined up his shot.

Hunk didn’t know why, but the Galra froze up at something, turning towards Hunk. He wasn’t about to waste the opportunity, releasing the charge that his cannon had been building. It was a trick that Keith told him he saw Lance using one time that they had discovered worked spectacularly well with his Bayard as well. The cannon disgorged a massive stream of yellow light that Keith only just barely jumped away from. Hunk’s weapon kicked back ferociously as the beam cast a dim yellow glow over the forest, casting deep shadows over both of the Paladins. He slowly lowered his weapon as the yellow beam dissipated, leaving a deep furrow in the dirt beneath them.

With a glowing purple shield in the shape of the Galra emblem in front of them. Only one other person had ever used a shield like that, and he’d fought Keith’s Lion to a standstill on foot. As the shield was dismissed, Hunk realized why the armor had looked so familiar; it was a dark mockery of their own Paladin armor, like the one worn by Zarkon.

“Whew! I’m not gonna lie, you almost had me with that one. That’s a new trick, huh? Where’d you pick that one up?” Hunk couldn’t believe that he was still bantering. No Galra had ever tried talking to them before during combat, and it was unnerving Hunk. Particularly since his banter sounded so familiar.

Keith lunged yet again, his blade flashing in the night. “Damn you!” He shouted, his strike blocked almost too easily by the Galra’s shield, flashing back into life for just the second it took to meet Keith’s sword. The Galra leaned back and his leg lashed out, catching Keith in the side and sending him flying yet again. Hunk was taken aback when the Galra didn’t chase Keith down, instead rushing right at him. Hunk tried to back away but was far too slow as the Galra’s Bayard flashed blue again, forming a staff that slammed into Hunk’s side. The staff broke into sections that wrapped around Hunk’s body, giving the Galra enough leverage to fling him onto his back.

Hunk tried to get up, but before he could even get his arms beneath him the Galra was on him, pressing the staff gently on Hunk’s throat. The Galra had one foot on Hunk’s chest, completely still as the impassive mask stared down at him. The staff glowed blue before slowly shifting again, taking the shape of a long, delicate spear capped in a silver blade.

“No…” Hunk heard Keith say behind him. “That’s...that’s Lance’s.” Hunk felt his blood run cold at that statement, and the sound of the Galra’s laughter only made it worse.

The pressure on Hunk’s neck eased as the Galra straightened up, still chuckling. “Man, you guys are never gonna get it, huh? I thought I was making it way too obvious, but you two are so dense!” Hunk was about to demand an explanation when the Galra reached up to his helmet, completely taking his attention off the two Paladins to remove it completely.

When he saw short brown hair instead of purple Galra fur, Hunk’s brain refused to process it. He heard Keith gasp when dark skin showed beneath the hair, but it was the eyes that nearly made Hunk’s heart stop. Those eyes that danced with mischief, as if he’d just played some magnificent prank on the two of them. As if he hadn’t vanished for a month and a half, leaving them all to assume the worst.

“What’s the matter, buddy? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life continues to be hectic for me, so I can't guarantee that the next chapter will come out soon, if I am to maintain my standards of length and quality. Thank you all for understanding. Again, bless you for your comments and kudos, I love you all!
> 
> Shout-outs: The Sylphe people come from the fic Bonding Time by the amazing Magisterpavus (It's an incredible fic, but super NSFW).


	8. I Don't Want To Be The One That's Left Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is very different from how the Paladins remember him, and he can't understand why they're so surprised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again! Thank all of y'all for keeping up with this, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Chapter title comes from "Old Scars/Future Hearts", by All Time Low.

Lance found himself oddly disappointed. He’d expected to feel something after doing this. Feel some kind of victory at having trounced Keith so thoroughly, some kind of clever joy at having tricked them both. Instead, he just felt...empty.

Keith was still on the ground, his eyes wide and his mouth opening and closing, as though fighting to get words out. But Lance couldn’t look at him for long, because the look in Hunk’s eyes was almost unbearable. Wide with betrayal and shock, Lance could feel his chest rise and fall shallowly as he began hyperventilating. Lance swore softly as he realized that Hunk was probably going into a panic attack.

He dismissed the spear and leaned down, ignoring Keith’s yell as he grabbed Hunk’s face. “Hey, buddy, eyes on me. You’re okay, alright? I’ve got you, you’re safe, just breath.” The words were familiar to him, nearly a mantra as he repeated reassurances, breathing slowly and deeply until Hunk mimicked him. He straightened up when Hunk’s breathing had returned to something normal, and his face wasn’t so deathly pale anymore.

“Lance? I...oh God, it really is you, isn’t it?” Hunk lifted himself on his elbows, his voice quiet and timid, as if he might scare Lance off. It drew a laugh out of Lance’s throat.

“Who else would it be? Come on, man, I know you were all pretty glad to be rid of me, but you know what Pidge always said about me: you can’t keep an idiot down.” He shook his head, sighing as if in reminiscence.

He was disappointed to see the shocked look still on Hunk’s face. “Wha...glad? Lance, I don’t...how are you here? Why are you wearing that?”

“Well, those are easy enough to answer.” He let his mouth curl slightly into a sneer, feeling a sick pleasure in anticipation of his answers. “One, I flew here. Not many other ways to get through space, I figure. Two, I realized that I had no reason to stick around somewhere I wasn’t wanted, so I jumped off the dying ship. Instead, I’m fighting with the side that’s been winning for ten _thousand_ years. Made sense to me.”

Keith struggled to his feet, and Lance spared him a passing look of disdain. “That doesn’t make any damn sense at all!” He shouted. Lance sighed as he heard Keith taking steps towards him, shambling like some kind of zombie. 

His arm extended gracefully, a rifle forming faster than even his own eyes could track. A bolt shot out and just barely grazed Keith’s leg, earning a very satisfying grunt of pain as Keith fell on his knees. “That’s better,” Lance said, sneering, “give us a minute will you? I’m trying to talk to my best friend, and you’re not important right now.” He caught a glimpse of Keith’s expression as he turned back to Hunk, and a distant part of his mind ached with shame at the open hurt he saw there.

Another flinch from Hunk as his eyes fell on his friend, and Lance heaved an exasperated sigh. “Okay, so, the flinching was funny the first time. But now can we skip past the part where you’re all scared of me, and get back to the part where you agree that I’m hilarious and you laugh with me? Because that’s way more fun than this.”

“There is nothing fun about this, Lance!” The sheer volume of Hunk’s bellowing threw Lance back a step, and he blinked in confusion. “You vanished! Disappeared! Didn’t say a word to anyone and went off to God knows where on a whim, and th-then your bl...your bloody armor shows up in some transport ship and Keith starts having weird dreams and now you’re attacking us and wearing Galra armor and your rifle is different and wrong and I’m...” Hunk stood up at some point and then he was crying, his eyes freely flowing as his words dissolved into helpless blubbering. It was hardly unfamiliar to Lance, but the sheer annoyance he felt in response was a bit of a surprise.

“ _Ekip re_ , man, cut it out. Look, I’m here now, right? Isn’t that what counts? Just come gimme a hug, you big lu-oof!” His words were cut off by two strong arms enveloping him in a bone-crushing hug, though it didn’t feel quite as strong as it used to. “There you go, just hug it out. I’m here, and you’re here, and everything is all okay now. And hey, you’re gonna come with me, right?”

For some reason, Hunk pulled back at that. “Come...with you? You mean you’re not coming back?” There was fear in Hunk’s eyes, and Lance could feel his patience wearing thin.

“Go back? Go back to where people can’t even hide how much they hate me? Go back to being yelled at and made fun of and screwed with? No way, man. I’m actually happy where I am, and I want you to come with me! Stop fighting a losing battle, ‘cause Zarkon is onto something here! Just...just come talk to him, I promise you’ll change your mind!” 

“Lance...what are you talking about?” The fear in Hunk’s eyes made its way down to his voice, and Lance was surprised to feel anger instead of sympathy in response. “You can’t...you’re not honestly with the Galra, right? You wearing that armor, it’s just...it’s just a big joke. Come on man, get to the punch line already.” He gave a weak laugh that died quickly as Lance felt his own face twist in anger briefly before he shoved it back down. 

Blue’s growling was loud in his mind. “It’s not a joke. I’m tired of being pushed around by him,” he gestured to Keith without looking back, “and Allura and everyone else on that crummy ship! Everyone there treated me like dirt, and I’m finally in a place where I get some respect, and I thought...I guess I thought that you’d be happy for me.”

“Lance, you can’t be serious. You can’t just turn tail and join the enemy because you’re mad that we tease you!” Lance rolled his eyes at the sound of Keith’s voice. _He will not learn. Show him his place._

Lance whirled to face Keith, his rifle pointing directly at Keith’s face. “I’m not gonna warn you again, mullet. Back off.”

Keith just smirked in response, like he knew something Lance didn’t. Lance hated it. “Technically, that was another warning.”

There it was. The taunting, the mockery, the casual tilt to his head and that stupid expression that said Lance just wasn’t worth his time. He didn’t hesitate at all before pulling the trigger.

Hunk lunged forward, knocking Lance’s arm to the side just in time for the bolt to go wild, its heat burning a bright red streak on Keith’s cheek. Lance fought out of Hunk’s grip, dropping his Bayard to grab his friend’s shoulder, flinging him to the ground roughly as Keith let out a gasp of pain. 

“You...you just tried to kill me,” Keith said, his eyes wide and disbelieving as he held his burned face. He stared up at Lance in shock, and Lance found that he didn’t care for that expression either.

Lance walked casually to his Bayard, flicking it and reactivating the rifle. He ignored the painful twinge in the back of his head at the sight of Keith’s pain as he walked back to Hunk on the ground, looking down at his friend. “Last chance, man. Look, you know that they don’t care about either of us back in the castle. We’re just jokes to them, stand-ins until they find real Paladins to take our place. But up there, with the Galra? With Zarkon? I just know that they’ll welcome you, like they did for me!” He reached his hand down, aching, desperate for Hunk to take it. “Just say yes.”

But he didn’t. “Why are you doing this? Why is any of this happening?” The pain and fear and hurt in Hunk’s voice was nearly overwhelming, and might have been too much if Blue’s growling wasn’t rapidly drowning it out.

“You wanna know why? Both of you? You know what, fine. And turn up your radios, because I want everyone to hear this.” He leaned down and grabbed Hunk’s chestplate, lifting him up with surprising ease. “Because when I finally went to space, did what I’d been dreaming about since was a kid, I went up with my best friend, my high school hero, and two people who hated me. Because we rescued an alien princess, and the first thing she ever does is mock me and she hasn’t stopped since. Because I do my _best_ , every single day, to make people happy and fight this stupid war that I never asked for, a war that Zarkon already won ten thousand years ago, and I’ve never gotten anything in return!”

Hunk stared blankly up at him, an expression that Lance recognized. He was searching for words, unable to think of a response, so Lance continued. “Do you know what Zarkon did, the first day I went to his base? He asked me what I wanted. What I wanted, Hunk. Do you know how long it’s been since anyone has given a crap about what I want? I’m in a place where I’m respected, and wanted, and prized for what I can do instead of being mocked for what I can’t. That’s why this is happening. And you-” he broke off, feeling a narrow pressure on his back pushing on his armor.

“Shut up,” Keith said from behind him, his voice wavering. “Just...shut up. I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but we’re taking you home, and we’re going to fix you.”

Lance straightened up slowly, dropping Hunk on the ground. The pressure didn’t increase on his back, so he knew that Keith wasn’t going to go through with his threat. But that didn’t make it okay. “Fix me, huh? You think something’s wrong with me? ‘S funny, I never took you for someone who couldn’t handle the truth. That’s a shame.”

“Please Lance, just stop talking.” Lance’s brow furrowed, because he thought he heard a tremor in Keith’s voice. Was he crying? He didn’t turn to look at him, instead just lifting a hand to his side with two fingers pointing down to the ground. “What does that mean? Lance, what did you do?” The pressure on Lance’s back increased as Keith pushed him forward. “Lance, you tell me right now wha-”

A bolt of purple light barely outran a muzzle flash, the searing light cutting through Keith’s wrist. Lance heard the Bayard fall to the ground and turned to see Keith clutching his right hand, his face open in shock. The wound was a sizable chunk torn out of Keith’s wrist, though Lance thought he should be grateful that the cauterization prevented bleeding. Lance whipped his arm around, a brief flash of sapphire light serving as the only warning before his staff collided with Keith’s head, knocking him out instantly.

Lance looked down at Hunk, still practically catatonic with shock, and sighed gently. He’d hoped that things would have gone better than this, but this had been the most likely scenario. He slid his helmet back on, hearing the comms activate. “Scarlet, this is Wolf Leader, what’s your status? Over.”

Zeltra’s voice flickered through the system. “We’ve lost sight of the Black Lion, but Saffron and I are in pursuit of Green. Did you acquire the target? Over.”

“Negative. Target was...uncooperative. Saffron, find the Black Lion, Shiro is too dangerous to be allowed to roam freely. Scarlet, you stay on Green’s tail, don’t let her out of your sight. And don’t forget about her cloaking technology, so keep your heat sensors ready. Silver, I don’t see much action happening on the ground, so get back in the air, they might need-” Lance broke off as a purple glow flashed in the dark forest, almost too far away to see. Lance’s eyes widened behind his helmet when he heard a stifled yell of pain from Vell.

He was already moving before he knew what was happening. “Sky, what’s your situation?” A few grunts of pain came over the line, but no response. “Darn it Sky, come in! Silver, what’s your position? I may need backup at Sky’s location.” Lance’s legs pulsed a deep purple as he increased his pace, running between trees towards the glowing limb he could see through the shadows. He saw sparks raise where Vell blocked a strike with his gun, but he knew that no weapon short of a Bayard could stop this kind of technology. The purple arm raised again, preparing to strike a final blow into Vell, and Blue’s growl reached a crescendo in Lance’s mind.

He spun and kicked out, his metal shin colliding with a knifehand strike in a thunderous clash. The force threw back both combatants, Lance sliding back near Vell as his opponent staggered backwards. “I’m on my way, Captain,” Eshkith said through his helmet. He turned to Vell, seeing his friend clutching a deep wound in his side.

He straightened slowly, regarding his opponent. Strange to think that he’d be facing Shiro so soon after his initiation into the Galra army. “Get away from my squad,” Lance said, the helmet modulating his voice to be far lower and more menacing. “Tell your squad to stop shooting my team, and then we’ll talk,” Shiro said, his arm pulsing with electric currents. He took a step closer and Lance fell into a combat stance, wondering idly if Shiro would recognize it.

A brief moment passed where the two regarded each other, sizing each other up before both struck simultaneously. Lance lunged and crouched, bracing himself on one hand as his leg came up to strike at Shiro’s side, just barely blocked by a hasty guard. 

Lance reversed momentum, spinning up into a full handstand as he launched another roundhouse kick at Shiro’s shoulder. Shiro was forced to turn to block the strike, unable to use anything other than his own prosthetic to block Lance’s. 

Lance realized the shift in Shiro’s stance just a moment too late. Shiro reversed his block and grabbed Lance’s ankle, planting his feet and pulling hard while twisting his torso to fling Lance onto the ground hard. Lance felt the impact knock the wind out of him, lifting his hands to bring up his Galra shield. Shiro’s hand collided with the shield a scant few inches from Lance’s face.

Shiro jumped back instantly, narrowly avoiding a kick that would have cleaved through his stomach. Lance followed through his momentum, swinging his body back up to a standing position, swaying gently to the sides to maintain some slight momentum. He looked to the side to see that Vell had taken cover, and breathed a little easier. Now he could actually focus.

“You’re the one who was giving Keith and Hunk trouble earlier, then. If you’re here, then they’re…” he trailed off, his face displaying concern as clear as day. Lance couldn’t help a vindictive smile under his helmet. “What did you do to them?!”

“They’re alive, don’t worry. I’m not surprised that you’re worried though. It would a terrible shame to lose your favorite Paladin, wouldn’t it?” Lance didn’t make any other movements, watching Shiro’s reactions carefully.

He wasn’t disappointed when Shiro’s face went from concern to confusion. “My favorite...what? What are you-” Lance interrupted him by lunging to Shiro’s right, feeling his feet kick off the ground explosively. He turned in the air to deliver a kick that Shiro easily blocked, but with Shiro still off-balance, the force of it knocked him down, sending him tumbling away.

Shiro grunted as he regained his footing, wincing as he put weight on his left leg. “Aw, did I hurt you? If only it were your legs that were prosthetic, you wouldn’t have to worry about that. I tell you man, it’s really convenient. I can put in a good word with Haggar, if you want.” Lance’s taunting caused Shiro to visibly stiffen, and he raised his head to stare right at Lance’s face.

“...Lance?” Shiro’s voice was quiet, almost tremoring with his desire to be wrong. Lance tilted his head before reaching up to undo his helmet, deliberately taking his time with the reveal. It would have been perfectly dramatic if he hadn’t been interrupted by a flurry of yellow lasers.

His helmet fell to the ground as he leapt to the side to evade the sudden barrage. The ground he’d been standing on was pockmarked by dozens of holes as he heard Hunk’s cannon winding down. He fell back into his stance, looking as Hunk walked up faster now that he wasn’t actively firing. “Don’t drop your guard, Shiro!” Hunk yelled, lifting his cannon. “Whoever this is, it’s not Lance.”

Shiro looked helplessly between Hunk and Lance, now able to see Lance’s face clearly without the helmet. “Aw, c’mon, Hunk! Don’t be like that. What, I stop being everyone’s fall guy all the time, and suddenly I’m an imposter? You can’t bear the thought that you’ve all been terrible, so you spin it around to be my fault? I’d expect that from Pidge or Keith, but not you. I thought you had my back.” Lance had intended to just taunt them, but he realized with an aching heart that he actually meant what he’d said. Seeing Hunk turn against him hurt.

Shiro stood up, his arm glowing as Hunk leveled his cannon at Lance. Blue’s growling started up again in Lance’s head, and he felt his hands clench into fists at his side. _They don’t want to listen never wanted to listen to you nothing has changed did you even miss me_ Lance charged, his voice screaming in harmony with Blue’s roaring. He felt a terrible rage grow in him as his Bayard shifted and flashed and twisted, becoming a jagged shape of blue light in his hands. He raised the malformed weapon and swung it down between his two targets faster than either could react to, feeling his anger peak as the light swelled and shattered, exploding with the force of a bomb that scattered all three of them.

“...-ptain! Captain, can you hear me?” Eshkith’s voice floated somewhere above Lance, and he blinked rapidly to clear his blurry vision. She came into sharp focus in the dark forest as he sat up, feeling her arms support him. “I don’t know what you just did, but both the Paladins appear to be unconscious. Shall we eliminate them?”

He was about to respond when a tremor rocked the ground beneath them, and he latched onto her arms for stability. “What the hell was that? Eshkith, what’s the situation?”

“The Altean Castle has appeared in the planet’s atmosphere, enabling the Green Lion to turn the tide and shoot down Zeltra. Kijur is still engaged, though I do not believe that he can hold out for much longer. Vell’s status is unknown.” Lance felt his blood run cold at the thought of Zeltra being shot down. He realized that if she’d been hurt or killed, he’d happily murder every single Paladin. “What are your orders, Captain?”

“We leave the Paladins. Zeltra and Vell are our priorities right now. Tell Kijur to go after Vell, we'll find Zeltra.” He stood up shakily, waving off Eshkith as she tried to steady him, noting her gaze flicker to where Vell had been stationed. A part of his brain wondered why someone so firmly entrenched in Galran culture was so eager to help him, but he could ponder that conundrum later. “Where did her fighter land?”

“Nearby,” Eshkith said, already holding Lance’s helmet and moving away. “Follow me.”

They moved through the forest quickly and silently, Lance’s legs pulsing a gentle glow as they worked to stabilize him. He glanced at his Bayard, dormant in his white-knuckled grip. He wasn’t in the right frame of mind to consider what the hell had just happened with it. It had felt more like a part of him than ever, but not in any way that was good. It was like it had drawn something really awful out of him, reacting to something wrong within him…

_What’s happening to me?_

“Captain, watch out!” Eshkith grabbed Lance’s shoulder and pulled him down just as a blade whistled through the air where Lance’s head had been only a moment before. He quickly righted himself as he looked up to see Keith, breathing heavily and holding his sword in his unhurt hand. Lance cursed himself for forgetting that Keith was ambidextrous.

Lance found himself smirking, despite his disadvantageous position. “How’d you find us?” He asked, enjoying the appearance of Keith’s bedraggled, pained expression.

“Your legs glow, you idiot.” Keith said. Lance looked down, and was forced to concede that those were a hindrance to stealth.

Lance received no further warning before Keith slammed his sword down, but being prone allowed Lance to bring his legs up to divert the strike easily. Keith seemed much slower than usual, likely a result of emotional fatigue and pain. Or maybe Lance had just gotten faster.

Lance swung himself up with the momentum of his mechanical legs, and he saw Eshkith pull her blade out of its sheath on her back. “No,” he said, raising his arm in front of her, “Go after Zeltra. I’ll take care of him, and we’ll bring Vell back.” She paused before nodding, running off into the darkness of the forest.

Keith doesn’t move to follow, which surprised Lance. “Not going after her? I kind of assumed that I’d have to stop you.” He allowed his voice to lilt in a familiar tone, teasing and almost friendly in its banter.

Keith showed no reaction, maintaining his level glare at Lance. “She’s not the one I’m after here. You are.” He made no move to strike, so Lance took the initiative. He straightened up and placed his Bayard on his belt, showing Keith his empty hands. “You’re not gonna fight?” Keith asked, the lines of his raised eyebrows laced with confusion.

“When did I say that?” Lance struck like a snake, his leg lashing out and catching Keith on his right arm. He pressed his advantage when Keith staggered back, pulsing the energy on his legs only when Keith brought up his blade to attempt to parry. It didn’t matter.

Lance was faster, he was uninjured, and he had two weapons to Keith’s one. He alternated legs as he relentlessly pushed Keith back, every strike pushing them back another step. Keith was slow, too slow, reluctant to fight back for some reason now that Lance had finally found the strength to match him. _That was it, wasn’t it? Just like any other bully, he fell apart when someone pushed back._

Lance leaned back to avoid a halfhearted slash, catching Keith’s wrist with his foot and pulsing the energy of his prosthetics, relishing the pained yell as Keith’s skin burned. The red Bayard fell to the ground, returning to its dormant state as Lance placed his foot slowly on Keith’s chest, shoving his exhausted opponent to the ground on his rear, as though for fear of hurting him.

“Is that all? I really expected a better fight from you, of all people,” Lance said, standing over the pathetic form of the one person he never thought he’d catch up with. “Why shouldn’t I just kill you right now?” He leaned down, grinning as he came within arm’s reach. A part of him hoped that Keith would try something, and give him a reason to put him down.

Keith lowered his head, causing his bangs to cover his eyes as he panted. “I...I know that it’s you, Lance…”

“Hmm, sorry, what was that? I can’t quite hear your mumbling, mullet.” Lance put a hand to his ear, grinning.

“I said that I know that it’s you!” Keith shouted, causing Lance to lean back exaggeratedly. “You’re not an imposter, no matter what Hunk thinks, no matter what your rifle looks like, I know that you’re still you! I just...I can’t figure out why you’re doing this.”

Lance schooled his expression into something sympathetic. “Aw, Keith. That’s an easy question to answer!” He leaned forward and planted his foot on Keith’s chest, shoving him onto his back. “I’ve already answered it, and true to form, you weren’t listening. I’m doing this because I’m tired of being pushed around. I think it’s time that I start pushing back.” He leaned over Keith, his foot still firmly planted so that he could feel the rise and fall of Keith’s breaths. Just enough of his weight rested on his leg that Keith could feel it, but not so much that he couldn’t breathe. 

Not enough to keep him from speaking, either. “Lance, I...I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Keith’s hands were on Lance’s ankle, but not trying to throw him off. If anything, he was holding Lance closer, as though he thought that if he let go, Lance would disappear. There was a distant piece of Lance that he recognized as being sad and familiar, as though watching a distant relative mourn for someone. It was easily ignored, though; its screaming was drowned out by Blue’s growls.

“Of course you don’t,” Lance said, kneeling to get closer to Keith’s face. “This whole time, I’m sure you didn’t even notice what you were doing to me. I was never good enough for you, right? Never worth more than a passing insult or a sidelong glare. But now I’m worth your time, aren’t I? Now I’m worth a little more than just your hatred.”

Keith stared up at him with such hurt that the screaming got a little louder in the back of Lance’s head. “I didn’t...Lance, I never thought of you that way. I just couldn’t - I thought you hated me, so I didn’t know how else to react. But you can’t-”

Lance reached down and clapped his hand over Keith’s mouth to stop him. “Oh no you don’t. I’m not interested in what you have to say. Not anymore.” The ground shook again beneath them, and Lance looked up to see the Castle darkening the sky, blocking the view of one the planet’s moons. He felt Keith’s hands move, and looked down just as he’d broken Lance’s grip on his mouth.

“Lance, I think I’m in love with you!”

Lance froze, unable to process that statement. His mind cycled rapidly through emotions, reactions, responses, incapable of finding one that fit the situation. He felt his eyes watering without his permission, and for the first time since walking on the crystals of Talsh, he didn’t hear Blue’s growling. “K...Keith?” He whispered, looking down at the man beneath him.

Pain tore through Lance’s head as the growling returned, threatening to split his skull with its sheer volume. He felt Keith’s hands on his knee as he leaned back, heard the distant sound of Keith’s voice shouting at him, but all he knew was Blue. He heard a sound that he distantly recognized as his own voice screaming, and then-

He looked down at Keith, puzzled. Why did he look so worried? “What’s the matter, Keith? Can’t handle the fact that I’m as good as you, now?” 

“What the...what just happened to you, Lance?!” Keith attempted to push himself up, but Lance shoved him down again. “Lance, stop! I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but you have to let us help you!”

Lance let his lips rise up into a scornful grin. “Really? Because I tried to let all of you help me for months, and look where that got me! Though in all fairness, I’m way better off now, so maybe I should be thanking you all. So, thanks.” His leg began to pulse slowly, glowing a dim purple as the sole of his foot started burning through Keith’s breastplate. He relished the look of horror on Keith’s face as he heard the metal sizzle. “Thanks for nothing, mullet.”

He lifted his leg to drive it back down through Keith’s sternum, seeing the incoming strike in just enough time to abort his attack and throw himself backwards. Shiro’s arm passed inches above his chest as he rolled away, springing back up to a crouch. He echoed the growl he felt in his mind as he watched Hunk help Keith to his feet. Shiro faced him with his Galran arm outstretched, and his features, though dimly lit by the purple glow, were impossible to make out in the shadows of the forest.

Lance stood and cracked his neck, hearing the roar of fighter engines above him. “Alright, alright. With three of you here, I know that I’m outmatched. I guess I’ll let you guys go this time, since I need to go tend to my squad. But hey, great seeing you guys again! Let’s do it again sometime, yeah? And maybe next time, we won’t all be walking away from it.” Lance left the threat hanging in the air as Eshkith’s fighter appeared in the sky, hovering over him. He crouched and activated his legs to their fullest, kicking off the ground with enough force to easily clear the thirty feet between him and the fighter.

He didn’t bother looking down at the Paladins as Eshkith’s canopy popped open, allowing him to climb inside. It was cramped with Eshkith in the seat and Zeltra’s unconscious body in the back, but Lance managed to fit somehow. He took a moment to check over Zeltra’s condition, and despite a number of nasty-looking gashes on her arm, she seemed unhurt. He breathed a sigh of relief, turning to face the night sky.

“Eshkith, did you hear from Kijur?” His voice tremored slightly, but if Eshkith noticed, she didn’t react.

“He has Vell, Captain. I’m told that he’s hurt rather severely. It’s possible that he’ll need significant care.” There was an edge to her voice that Lance didn’t miss. He wondered if there was something between those two.

He shook his head, remembering the sight of Shiro poised to deliver a killing blow. “Then he’ll get it. I’m not letting my squad go.”

In the reflection of the glass canopy, he saw a smile creep reluctantly across Eshkith’s face. He allowed a similar one to grow across his own face, feeling himself finally relax.

“Haggar will not be pleased, Captain. The goal was to retrieve at least one of the Paladins. What do you plan to tell her?”

He groaned, leaning back over Zeltra. “I plan to tell her to stick her displeasure in her witchy behind, honestly. We may not have gotten any Paladins, but we got valuable intel from this. We know they won’t ignore even the most obvious traps, we know that they’ll take the Castle into danger as a last resort, and we know that they’re all reluctant to hurt me. I gave them all a dozen chances to take me down, and they never took any of them.”

“Is that why you had Vell and myself on standby? As insurance in case one of them did take you down?” Eshkith leaned towards him, giving him her attention while still focusing on space.

Lance nodded, knowing that she’d see him in the reflection. “I expected something a bit better, honestly.” He knew that this impassive calculation was more a shade of previous Blue Paladins than his actual mind, but it was too useful to ignore.

They flew in silence for a moment after that, and Lance saw Kijur’s fighter appear in the radar screen. He allowed a sigh of relief, hearing Eshkith converse with him in the harsh Galran tongue until Eshkith turned back to him. “Captain, where’s your helmet?”

“It’s on…” he paused, realizing where he’d left it. “...the planet. Aw, crap.”

* * *

She had expected Prorok’s heavy footsteps in her chambers. She hadn’t expected Zarkon to accompany him.

“We received word from your precious little _cub_ , Witch. He failed spectacularly in his mission, and is returning with an injured war band. What exactly do you have to say in explanation?”

She ignored Prorok’s rambling, glancing at Zarkon’s impassive expression. He merely stared back at her, awaiting her response. His trust in her was a commodity that she had no interest in exhausting, so she dismissed her scrying and turned fully towards her guests.

“Did he fail, now?” Haggar’s voice was a whisper in the chamber, magnified by echoes until it filled the air. “Yes, he did not capture a Paladin, and yes, several members of his so-called ‘squad’ were injured, but let me ask you a question: has any other team of soldiers gone up against the Voltron Paladins with no casualties?” 

That shook Prorok, though he tried to conceal it. Sensing weakness, she continued. “I watched the boy through his Lion’s eyes, General. He faced three Paladins, and fought each without hesitation. Only once did my control falter, and I regained it in a matter of seconds and minimum effort. And that was across entire star sectors. So please, Prorok, remind me in what way exactly was this experiment a failure?”

The general visibly trembled in rage, so poorly hidden. His anger was a weapon that he eagerly handed to all those with whom he spoke, and it was one Haggar was only too willing to use against him.

“Leave us, Prorok.” Zarkon’s voice rebounded effortlessly around the room, carrying authority and no small trace of a threat. Haggar couldn’t resist a smirk as Prorok practically scurried from the room like the insignificant rat he was. 

Once they were alone, Zarkon walked the length of the chamber, pausing at one of the many murals that decorated her walls. A depiction of a sensitive moment in Zarkon’s history, and one of the few remaining reminders that it had even occurred. Haggar waited for his attention to return to her, knowing better than to intervene in the reminiscence of the only being in the universe more powerful than she.

Eventually he turned away from the mural, his attention focused entirely on her. It was practically a physical presence, and she had seen many warriors crumble beneath it, broken by his mere existence. At their first meeting so long ago, she’d sworn to never break beneath him. 

It was the only promise that she’d ever kept.

“What are your thoughts on the boy?” He asked, his voice quiet and powerful. He ahead, his eyes staring off into the distance at something she could not see. She supposed it was only fair; her eyes saw thousands of sights he’d never comprehend.

“I believe that he is an excellent asset, and a valuable tool. His skill grows exponentially with each passing day, and his resistance is virtually nonexistent. With time, any trace of his mind will dissolve completely, and he will be little more than a puppet, dancing on my string. But that is not the question you truly wish to ask, is it?”

Zarkon looked down, facing her for the first time since entering her chamber. She nearly flinched with the weight of his focus, feeling the enormity of his power nearly overwhelm her. She was pleased that none of this showed outwardly. “Do you believe that I have allowed myself too much freedom with the boy? Choose your words carefully, Haggar.”

A smile , unfamiliar and jagged, pulled at her lips. “There are few who know of your grief, my Emperor. I have no doubts in your control of yourself. I wonder, though, if you allow the boy freedom that you would deny others, due to certain resemblances?” Haggar’s eyes never turned to meet her Emperor’s, though she could feel the tides of his anger crashing against her. But she did not break.

“Any resemblance born by this boy to what I have lost is in passing only. I do not delude myself.”

“And yet, you grant him boons. Armor, leadership, greater authority than even some of your most loyal warriors. I speak no ill of you, my Emperor, but there are whispers.”

“Then they will be silenced.” His fist clenched, and she felt the air grow taut with pressure. Her smile did not falter.

A moment passed, a silent confrontation where neither one had anything to gain but pride. At length, Haggar released the tension by stepping away, turning back to her crystals. She would bend, this time. “Will that be all, my Emperor? I believe that I have answered the question you posed to me.”

“Indeed you have,” he growled, turning back towards the door. He paused on his way back to his throne, glancing upwards at the mural again. “Haggar. Should you ever again insinuate that any could replace my son…” he paused, staring up at the crystalline features of the only loss he’d ever suffered, “I will destroy you.”

Haggar did not look away from her crystal. “As you say, my Emperor.” She heard the doors to her chamber open and close, but it took far longer for Zarkon’s presence to fully fade from the room. Only once it was gone completely did she allow herself to relax, breathing deeply in the empty air. Her gaze moved around the room, settling on the same mural that had caught Zarkon’s attention.

“To retain the Emperor’s attention, even after all these years...you were a fascinating creature, Lotor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I'm proud of this one. Thank you again for coming this far with me! We're probably around halfway done, though I'm honestly not sure. Let's find out together, shall we? Oh, and here's some translations and guides for some of the poorer-explained segments.
> 
>  _Ekip Re_ : Galran curse. Equivalent to "damn it"  
> Wolf Squadron callsigns:  
> Scarlet: Zeltra  
> Saffron: Kijur  
> Sky: Vell  
> Silver: Eshkith  
> Wolf Leader: Lance!
> 
> That's it! I love all of you so much! If you wanna come bug me, you can find me on [Tumblr!](http://disappointedcheesecake.tumblr.com/)


	9. I Need A Chance To Show You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk denies, Keith bargains, Pidge regrets. How do you get someone back who doesn't want to come back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was super emotional for me to write, and I really hope y'all enjoy it. It's not quite as long, but I think y'all need something of a break after the emotional roller coaster that was the last two chapters. 
> 
> Title comes from "Heads/Tails", by Hotspur.
> 
> And y'all, just so you know, every time my email pings with a new comment or I see more kudos on this, my heart just lifts. Y'all's feedback means the world to me, and I do read every single comment that you post. Thank you all so much!

Pain was not an unfamiliar sensation. At this point, it was almost comforting. Pain was something she understood, something she knew how to deal with, something that could be managed. It wasn’t easy, and she hoped that it never would be, but it was manageable. Even when she’d left Earth behind, when she’d abandoned the only family she was sure of to go look for the family she’d lost, the pain had been manageable.

So why did this pain feel so unbearable?

_That’s due to several mitigating factors involved in Dad and Matt’s disappearance that were absent from Lance’s_ , her brain supplied completely unhelpfully. _Dad and Matt were kidnapped by Galra, taken against their will. In addition, one-third of their crew has been located already, increasing the hope that they too can be recovered._

She sighed as her Lion docked in its hangar, gritting her teeth as her brain continued its unbidden analysis. _Though initial interpretations of data suggested that Lance was similarly taken, further investigation has shown this to not be the case. In contrast, he left of his own volition, and was perhaps pushed to do so by the actions of the other Paladins._

There. That thought was the cause of the pain. She’d heard Lance’s words over their helmets, or at least what little she could understand while frantically dodging two very experienced Galra pilots. That they’d pushed him away, that they all mocked him, taunted him, _hated_ him. She reflected on their time in space as she unhooked herself from her Lion, realizing that it wouldn’t be a terribly large leap of logic to come to the conclusion that yes, she didn’t care much for him at all.

She could feel the pain weighing down her limbs, making the walk out of her Lion feel impossibly long. A vague sense of unease poked at the back of her mind, and she casually shrugged it off. Her connection to her Lion had never been particularly strong, and it was easily brushed aside. Right now wasn’t the time to dwell on that, anyway. She needed to get out, to get to work, to put her mind anywhere other than on the fact that someone she’d regarded as a brother thought that she hated him.

She looked up at the sound of the other Lions docking, hearing the other Paladins long before she saw them. Since Lance’s disappearance, they’d gotten into the habit of sharing a single hangar instead of using separate ones, and she found herself regretting that decision. It would have been much easier to isolate herself if she didn’t have to escape the others.

“That’s not what I’m saying, Hunk! I know that you know Lance better than me, but don’t pretend that you can look me in the eye and say with confidence that the person we saw wasn’t Lance!” She sighed at the sound of Keith’s voice filling the empty space. He was walking out of Red now, practically jogging over to Yellow to continue yelling at Hunk in person instead of over the comm system. She noticed a burnt section of his armor on his right wrist. Had Lance shot him? Was he that far gone? 

“I know for a fact that it wasn’t! I’ve known Lance since we were children, Keith, and I know that he would _never_ do the things that he was doing on that planet!” Hunk was yelling back, which served as Pidge’s biggest cue to get out before it got worse, but Shiro’s gaze found her and rooted her in place. 

Keith didn’t seem deterred in the least. “What if it is Lance, but isn’t really? The Galra took control of the castle, maybe they found a way to control people, too!”

“That was taking control of a _computer_!” Hunk’s hands flung wildly to emphasize his point. “Human minds are infinitely more complicated than even the most sophisticated computer, and I don’t think that Lance is an exception to that rule.”

Shiro walked up to them, briefly taking his eyes off of Pidge. She considered bolting. “Hunk has a point, Keith. There were no signs of Druid magic that I could notice, and his fighting style was unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

Hunk flinched at that, and Pidge became curious despite herself. “Actually…” he said, pausing as if to stall, “that part was kinda Lance. A lot of his moves were really reminiscent of Capoeira, which is something Lance has done for like, ten years? There was someone where we grew up who taught it, and Lance fell in love with it. I guess it just didn’t seem that useful against, you know, robots and space ships.”

Shiro frowned at that, growing quiet and thoughtful. An uneasy silence fell, and Pidge realized that she needed to say something before she lost her nerve. She balled her hands into fists and walked towards the other three, vaguely registering the sounds of Allura and Coran entering the room.

“Guys,” she said, pausing to take a deep breath. “I couldn’t hear most of what you were saying, because I was engaged with the enemy, but...does he really think that we pushed him around? That we...that Keith and I...hate him?” She could feel tears welling in her eyes, and she pushed them closed to hold it back. 

“No!” Hunk said, pushing past Keith and Shiro to get to Pidge. “Pidge, that wasn’t Lance. It was just some Galra trick, trying to get in our heads and mess with us! You can’t listen to what he was saying.”

She looked up at him, and there must have been something fierce in her eyes because he took a step backwards. “No. I don’t think it was. He called you his best friend, he called Shiro his high school hero, and he said that Keith and I…” she shook her head, continuing. “Why would the Galra know that? Even if they captured and interrogated him, why would they ask for his personal relationships? It seems like such a pointless tidbit, especially to a race as warlike and practical as the Galra.”

“But...no, there has to be some other explanation. That wasn’t Lance, it couldn’t be!” Hunk’s eyes darted around the room, as if searching for someone to tell him that yes, it was all a bad joke. It occurred to Pidge that the person who usually said that was Lance.

The soft clicking of Allura’s shoes drew their attention as she approached, her hands clasped over her front. “I do not believe that this discussion is making any progress for anyone. Perhaps it would be better if you all got some rest, and discussed this in the morning? We’ve already initiated a wormhole jump, so we should be safe for at least a few days.”

“Thank but no thanks,” Pidge said as she turned to walk away. “I’m fine. I’ll be in the lab if you need me, getting the Blue armor fixed up. It’s gonna need to be ready for its new Paladin.”

A hand grabbed her shoulder, and she turned back to see Hunk holding her back. His eyes glistened with tears. “Please, Pidge. Please don’t say that.”

“Don’t say what? That we all saw firsthand that Lance isn’t coming back? That Lance doesn’t even want to come back? And that it’s our fault that we’re gonna have to look for a new Blue Paladin, because we drove him away? Yeah Hunk, I’m gonna say that!” She threw his hand off of her shoulder, continuing her tirade even as he cowered. “I don’t like it any more than you do. I don’t want it to be true, but it is. Lance is gone, and the next time we see him, he won’t be our friend.”

“Pidge! That’s enough.” Shiro’s voice cut through the air, shocking Pidge out of her anger. “I get that you’re upset, but taking it out on us isn’t going to help anything.”

“You’re right, Shiro,” Pidge said, casting her eyes down. “It isn’t going to help anything, because _nothing_ is going to help this! Nothing can help the fact that we just lost Lance all over again, and now we know that he wasn’t even taken. He wanted to go. He wanted to get away from us. And now we’re gonna have to go on without him, because he’s clearly getting on without us.”

She didn’t regret any of her words, but she instantly regretted causing the reactions she saw around her. Shiro looked stricken, as if her words had cut him. Keith and Hunk were both staring at the ground, and to her surprise Keith looked closer to tears than Hunk was. She didn’t turn to see Coran and Allura’s faces, but she could feel their disapproving stares on her like a physical force. 

“I’ll be in the lab,” she said dismissively, hoping to keep her wavering emotions hidden under flippant words. She knew it hadn’t worked, but appreciated that the others let her go without more of a fight.

She felt the pressure on her chest relieve the instant she left the room, though it didn’t go away entirely. Her body still felt heavy as she trudged her way to the castle laboratory, her breathing labored as she fought to make her lungs cooperate. Every exhale was followed by a shuddering inhale, another step towards the ragged edge of sobbing that she struggled to keep away from. It was a fight that she saw herself rapidly losing.

She paused in one of the labyrinthine hallways, leaning against a wall as she breathed too quickly, too shallowly, not nearly deeply enough to stave off the tears that she knew were coming. She’d feel better after if she let it happen, she knew that, but to let the tears come was to surrender herself to a tide of emotions that she’d been fighting off since she came to space in the first place. And she refused to let herself do that. To surrender to emotion when her only weapon was logic. She didn’t have Keith’s strength, Hunk’s kindness, Shiro’s experience; all she had was her intuition and her mind. She would not surrender those to emotion, even for a second.

Two deep breaths later she was pushing off the wall and continuing her way down, her emotions successfully tamped down for the time being. Her eyes were dry and her head held proudly, if not tremendously high. But she knew better than to expect too much of herself too quickly. Or at least, she had been taught not to expect too much.

_You gotta let yourself rely on us, you know? You can’t expect to do everything by yourself._

No no no, she couldn’t dwell on that, couldn’t remember those moments, couldn’t let herself get sucked back into those memories. There was too much to remember, far too much to regret in those memories for her to ever let herself dwell on them. There would never be a lack of things to do to keep her mind off of them, so she’d never have to think about them.

And right now, the most pressing concern was staring down at her, suspended by magic space-tech. The Blue Paladin armor stood empty and cold, a reminder of all the things she hadn’t been able to do or say. She sat in the chair in front of the terminal, booting it up as she considered the crystals, the warped surfaces of the armor, the slight bends and twists that showed just how malleable the metal really was, how reactive it was to its owner’s mental state.

It was a fascinating subject, and as the holographic screen flashed to life beneath her fingers she found herself easily pulled into it. She let herself get immersed in the readouts of numbers, statistics, and projections. Information about the suit’s structural integrity, its internal power supply, and other important bits of data flew past her, and she absorbed them each in turn. It was easy, quick, understandable, manageable, and it had nothing to do with anything else. This was familiar. This, she could- 

_“Okay, I’m not gonna let this go on. Pidge, you gotta put that down, you’re killing me!”_

To further punctuate his point, Lance dramatically threw himself over Pidge’s lap, his unnecessarily long torso completely dwarfing her laptop and pinning her arms under his body. Her eyes twitched in annoyance, and she briefly pondered the benefits of murdering her flight crew. Would they assign her a new one, or just kick her out? Better to not take the risk.

“Dude, you may wanna get off him? He looks about ready to kill you,” Hunk said from Pidge’s side, eyeing her expression warily. 

Lance, much to Pidge’s growing frustration, did not get off. “Nah, that’s his thinking face. He’s trying to come up with something snarky to say to destroy my spirit.”

Pidge gasped sharply and glared down at Lance’s annoying smirk, because that was exactly what she was trying to do. “Wh-how did-I was not! I was trying to think of a way to get you off of me and let me work in peace. Why are you two even here at all? Don’t you usually sneak out around this time of night?”

“Yeah, but Lance insisted that we come back here.”

“Excuse you, I did not insist! I just made the suggestion very strongly several times.” Lance looked up at Pidge, effortlessly holding himself up to meet her eyes while still draped over her lap. She wondered if he’d still do this if he knew she was a girl. “I realized that you’re a lonely nerd who never gets out, and I thought that you should come with us tonight. Maybe try being a slightly less lonely nerd for a change.” 

She could see where his smile would have been charming, if it weren’t for the slight leer that accompanied it. The one that made her feel like he was studying her, trying to pick her apart. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll pass on your night of debauchery, or whatever it is that you two do when you’re alone at night together.” 

She took great pleasure at Hunk’s immediate reaction, waving his hands and stammering as he attempted to explain that they certainly weren’t doing that, but Lance looked far less distracted. He was still staring her down. “You sure? Because you take an awful lot of time for yourself, and I don’t think it’d hurt you to take some for other people, too.”

“Why do you care? What I do isn’t any of your business.” It was an overly harsh reaction, but she wasn’t here to make friends, or socialize with these people. She had a mission, and she wouldn’t be distracted from it.

“Because we’re your friends.”

It was said so simply and so honestly that it threw Pidge for a loop. She stared back at Lance, her eyes wide, and found an expression that had lost its leer, its studying and discerning look. Seeing such naked compassion was not something she’d ever expected in Lance, and she couldn’t decide how she felt about it. It would be so easy to reject him one more time, tell him to get off and leave her alone, but to do so at this point felt like it would be an insult.

But her mission had to come first. “Sorry, Lance. We’re not friends like that. I’m sure that you and Hunk will have fun without me, though.” She disentangled her arms and laptop from underneath Lance, wiggling out as she did so. “I have some work I need to get done. Try to not be too loud when you get back, all right?” She turned away from both of them to face the window in their small dorm room, pointedly looking away from faces that she was sure were hurt and confused. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter, because her mission here was so much more important than making friends with these two.

Even if it hurt.

A sudden shock to her face jolted Pidge out of her memories, and she jumped upright. Had she fallen asleep facedown on the terminal? No wonder it had shocked her. Probably some kind of failsafe to prevent people from drooling on it, she pondered somewhat ruefully as she rubbed her stinging cheek. 

She wished that her subconscious hadn’t picked up that particular memory. It stung at her already-aching conscience as one of the many moments she’d spent pushing Lance away. _And what do I have to show for it now? If not for him, I wouldn’t have found any members of Dad’s crew, and I’d still be trying to sneak into Iverson’s office._ She took off her Paladin helmet, swiping furiously at her eyes as they threatened tears yet again. Traitorous things.

“That seems to be something we have in common,” Keith’s voice from the doorway made her jump before she calmed herself. “Falling asleep after a lot of stress. You okay?” She didn’t have to turn towards him to imagine his posture: leaning against the door frame, his ankles probably crossing and uncrossing in agitation as he waited for her response. His arms were likely crossed defensively, more so now that he knew what had happened with Lance, and his brow would be lightly furrowed as he attempted to decode her posture for clues. 

Apparently she’d been wrong about his ankles being crossed, because she heard his steps tap across the lab floor when she failed to respond. He sat down on the floor next to her, gazing up at her and looking for the world like a lost dog. She nearly reached down to pet his head, but she didn’t imagine that it would have gone over well.

“Hey,” he said, still staring at her. “Are you okay?” 

She sighed at the repetition, turning her head to meet his eyes. “No, Keith. I’m not okay at all.” His brows turned further inward, and he had taken off his helmet, so she could easily imagine a pair of dog ears on his head turning inwards in concern. The image was so vivid she snorted in barely-contained laughter, and he just looked more confused. She waved her hand in what she hoped was a placating gesture as she fought back her giggles, and while he huffed, he seemed to accept it.

“Do you wanna...talk about it?” The words seemed to force their way out of Keith’s mouth almost without his permission, and the sour expression on his face threatened to get her giggles going again.

“Depends. Do you wanna talk about how you’re missing a piece of your wrist?” She looked at the hastily bandaged wound. It wasn’t as severe as she’d originally imagined it, but it was very near an important area. 

Keith scowled, placing his left hand gently over the bandage. “It’s not that big of a deal. It didn’t hit any major tendons, and my mobility isn’t limited much.” When she continued to glare, he sighed. “I’m gonna go in the cryopod later, I promise. I just wanted to check on you first, and maybe talk to you.”

“About what, our feelings? Wow, you must have been really shaken by all that, huh?” He didn’t respond to her teasing, instead falling silent and looking at the floor. She paused, recognizing that she was defaulting to sarcasm instead of dealing with her feelings, which really wasn’t much better than Keith’s own habit of fighting his problems away. At least he had the courage to come try to talk about them.

“...I’m sorry. I just...it’s easier for me to joke about my problems. Like somebody else we know, right?” Pidge laughed uncomfortably, and felt Keith squeeze her arm in sympathy. She nodded to no one, unable to meet his eyes without succumbing to emotion. “I was thinking about him, and dreaming about him too. Remembering our time in the Garrison, and how I kept blowing off him and Hunk. I was just so focused on finding my family, that I didn’t want to give up even a single second of time to do anything else.”

“Mh-hmm.” Keith hummed his agreement, his hand still on her arm. She placed her hand on his, but kept her eyes focused in front of her, on the empty armor.

She took a deep breath before she could continue. “I wish that I hadn’t. It didn’t...I’m not any closer to Dad and Matt now than I would be if I’d gone out with them one time, you know? But instead, I got used to treating Lance like...a distraction. Hunk made himself useful, knew engineering, could fix his way out of an empty void, and I never saw anything as helpful in Lance. I’m such an idiot.” She put her head in her hands, but felt Keith pry her hands away.

“You’re not an idiot, Pidge,” he said, his face rather uncomfortably close to hers. “You made some mistakes, but it’s not like the rest of us, me especially, treated him much better. Lance is the kind of person that you don’t realize is necessary until he’s gone, when the whole place just feels so much more...empty. Quiet.”

Pidge laughed at that, somewhat bitterly. “Yeah, it’s never quiet with Lance around, that’s for sure. But I don’t think that he sees how important he was to us. I don’t think he _ever_ saw how important he is, and I just...I wish I had a chance to show him, you know? To prove to him that we do miss him, and we do want him to come back, and to stop being such a jerk about all this.” She let herself get a bit whinier and more petulant towards the end, and it was worth to hear Keith chuckle, quiet and low.

“I wish that I had that, too. But we’re gonna have that chance, and we’ll show him how much we need him. We’ll get him back, Pidge. I don’t know how we’re gonna do it, but we are, somehow. We just need to keep thinking.”

“And we need to work together.”

The sound of Shiro’s voice from the doorway made both Pidge and Keith, and they turned to face him at the same time. This resulted in both of their heads crashing into each other, leaving them nursing mirrored bumps as Shiro approached them, chuckling. 

He placed a hand on both of their shoulders, his grip gentle but firm. “I’m glad that you two are doing better. I was worried, about both of you.”

Pidge nodded, and saw Keith mirror the action. “I just needed some time, I think, to work things out in my head.” 

“Well, I’m glad that you got that. There’s a lot of work to do going forward, but that doesn’t mean that either of you should neglect yourselves, or each other.” The last two words were said pointedly to Keith, who groaned and put his head in his hands. 

“Ugh, I need to go apologize to Hunk, don’t I? I yelled in his face again.”

Shiro laughed again, though it was slightly more at Keith’s expense this time. “Yes, but I would give it a few minutes. He’s somehow managed to combine stress baking with stress building in the kitchen, and is trying to concoct some sort of bread-making robot. Might be best to give him space for the time being.”

Shiro walked away at that, with Keith pouting at him and Pidge smirking as she looked back at the displays. Her smirk quickly faded as she kept looking at them. There was a disconnect somewhere in the information, some leap that she hadn’t made. The energy readings from the crystals made no sense, nor did the way in which they almost seemed to be communicating with each other via bursts of energy waves.

She groaned aloud, drawing Keith’s attention. “Something bothering you?” He asked, standing up to lean over her chair. 

“Ah yes, I love when you loom over me. That helps me think.” He leaned further over her in response, his shadow eclipsing her completely. “You’re hilarious.” He laughed and backed off, leaning further over so their heads were on the same level. “It’s these crystals here. They’re giving off strange energy signatures that I can’t quite decipher, unlike any other element I’ve ever analyzed. Not only that, but the different strains of crystal seem to be responding to each other, almost replying to different energy spectrums with the signals they’re giving off. It doesn’t make any sense, and it’s stressing the system just to keep the suit under suspension.”

Keith took in the information, glaring at the suit like it could tell him what was going on, but refused to share the information. Pidge glanced over at him, and he quirked his head to the side in thought. “Hey, Pidge? Have you noticed that the crystals there look kinda like the Balmeran crystals?”

“What?” She looked back at the suit, confused. “They don’t look anything like Balmeran crystals. They’re different colors, for one, and their energy composition has much more in common with...Galra...oh my god.”

Keith looked down at her, straightening up. “Are you okay? What’s wrong? Did you figure something out?”

“No, but you did,” Pidge said slowly, looking down at the energy readouts. “That makes sense. I never got a chance to study it because the whole castle went crazy, but if I assume that they’re communicating because that’s what they’re _designed_ to do, then…” Her fingers flew over the controls, looking up different patterns and signatures across the ship’s databases. “Yes, that’s it! Keith, you’re a genius!”

“I am?” He was nearly yanked off-balance by Pidge grabbing his arm excitedly. “Wait, I don’t know what’s going on! How am I a genius?”

“Because you-don’t you see? You just figured it out! Or, you helped me figure it out. If it’s a Balmeran crystal, then it’s supposed to communicate and send signals across itself! It’s designed to amplify those signals and send them across an entire planet, so with the amplification of Galra tech behind it, of course it’s able to go much farther, and be much stronger.”

Keith’s eyes widened with understanding, and Pidge’s grin got bigger. “Wait, are you saying that these crystals are why…” he trailed off, unable to continue, but Pidge was more than happy to finish the thought.

“I think it is! And what’s more, now that I have crystals connected to the network, I think that I can do something about it.” Her grin became downright devilish, and Keith looked down at her with concern.

“What exactly do you plan to do?”

She looked up at him, and winked. “Exactly what Lance would do: something really stupid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with me! As you can see, we're almost halfway done now, and I can't wait to show you all what happens next! As always, feel free to come yell at me on [Tumblr!](http://disappointedcheesecake.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Additionally, I've gotten fanart for this fic, which for me is incredibly exciting! It's made by the wonderful [Koshkavinni!](http://koshkavinni.tumblr.com/post/152201322546/i-ended-up-getting-really-sucked-into)


	10. So Wake Me Up And Bring Me Daylight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lance flirts with Galra, fights with Galra, and something breaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, everyone! Thank you all for your patience, and I hope you like this chapter! It was a long one to write, but a fair bit happens, so I feel justified. 
> 
> Chapter title comes from "Keep Swinging" by the Blitz Kids.

"No, come on Vell, you can’t leave the story hanging there! What’d he say after that? You can’t stop on a cliffhanger like that!”

Vell grunted as Lance tightened the bandage around his shoulder, but was still grinning. “I asked him if he wanted to see me again, and he responded with, and I quote, ‘I’d sooner be eaten by a pack of Yalmors’. It wasn’t tremendously encouraging.”

Lance had started laughing, though he didn’t miss the brief glimpse of sadness in Vell’s eyes. “Okay, but that’s crazy! No one in their right mind would turn down someone like you, so I have to assume this guy was crazy.” He tightened the bandage again before tying it off, taking some small satisfaction in hearing a Galra yelp. “Besides, Yalmor don’t even have teeth. They’d take forever to eat someone.”

Vell chuckled, moving his arm experimentally under the bandage. “Perhaps that’s true now, Captain, but I was barely ten revolutions old at the time. I was hardly much of an attractive prospect.”

Lance struggled to put that in perspective. He knew that a ‘revolution’ was the Galra term for year, and they were longer than Earth years, and on top of that Galra matured faster than humans, so that would have made him...fifteen or sixteen, probably. He idly wondered how old Vell was now, but chose to address a different concern, instead.

“Well, clearly something changed between then and now,” Lance said, his voice a bit huskier as he moved his hand down Vell’s shoulder to his side, only belatedly realizing that the soldier was still naked from the waist up. “Because the Galra in front of me is definitely an attractive prospect.” He put on his trademark flirty smirk, bracing himself for Vell’s inevitable rejection.

What he hadn’t expected was for Vell to put his hand over Lance’s, turning to face him with a similar smirk on his alien features. “Is that so, Captain? I wasn’t sure that I would be...exotic enough for an alien like yourself.”

Vell’s inflection on the word ‘captain’ was very different from any other time he’d used it, and it sent shivers down Lance’s spine. “Uh, n-no, I’d say you’re pretty exotic…” Lance found himself stammering, completely unprepared for any kind of positive reaction. “Do...do you think that, um, that I’m exotic?”

Vell chuckled at Lance’s stumbling, which should have been insulting. Instead, the rich, deep sound rooted Lance to the ground as he attempted to swallow past a dry throat. It didn’t help him calm down when Vell removed his hand from Lance’s to instead hook his fingers under the breastplate of Lance’s armor, tugging gently on it. “I think that you’d be attractive even if you weren’t, Captain. But it certainly doesn’t hurt that you are.”

The tugging on his armor was getting a little more insistent, and Lance found more and more that he didn’t really want to resist. Vell was leaning up with a smirk on his face that Lance wanted to wipe off, or maybe just cover up. And the more he thought about it, the more that covering it up sounded like a good idea. So he leaned down to do just that, his mouth quivering because he wasn’t sure if he should pucker his lips or just leave his mouth slightly open or if Vell would think that he looked stupid or-

“Captain, are you done with Vell’s first aid yet? We have some things that we need to-” Eshkith strode through the door purposefully, halting both her speech and her movement when she processed what she had just walked in on. Her eyes darted between Vell and Lance, who had both paused mid-lean to stare at her uncomfortably. Her lips quirked in her efforts to restrain a smirk, and she settled on heaving a sigh.

“It certainly is fortunate that I didn’t intrude on something private and _extremely_ inappropriate between an officer and his subordinate, isn’t it?” She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring until Vell and Lance had moved away from each other, both staring at the floor like admonished children. Lance couldn’t help but feel an oddly familiar sense of shame at having been caught, like she was his mother or something. But his mother wasn’t Galra. Wasn’t she?

“Technically Eshkith, there is nothing in the Galran military code that forbids things of this nature. Besides,” he grabbed Lance’s waist and pulled him close, eliciting both a yelp and a blush from Lance, “Are you really saying that you don’t find him attractive at all?”

Lance squirmed in Vell’s grip, but didn’t miss the faint coloration on Eshkith’s face before she answered. “Whether I do or do not is completely irrelevant to this situation. Your actions,” she glared at Vell, “and I assume that they were your actions, Vell, were still inappropriate given the Captain’s rank and age.”

“He’s 19 revolutions!” Vell protested, standing while still holding onto Lance’s waist. Lance was reminded that like most Galra, Vell was taller than him. He didn’t mind as much as he thought he would.

“19 _Earth_ revolutions,” Eshkith corrected. “And besides that, we’ve spoken about the progression of human maturity, so you know that it occurs much slower than Galra maturation. For all that we know, the Captain is effectively the equivalent of a child.” 

Lance knew Eshkith well enough to know that she didn’t mean it as an insult, but it grated on him nevertheless. He pulled Vell’s hand off of his waist, stepping forward to plant himself between the two Galra. “Okay, that’s enough!”

Eshkith jerked to face him, as though she’d forgotten he was there. Given that he was a solid head shorter than Vell, that was entirely possible. She offered no response, so he continued. “Eshkith, I understand your concerns, and they are valid, but right now _you’re_ the one who’s out of line. I don’t care how much older than me you are, I will not have you speak to or about me like that. I’m letting you off with a warning this time, but that won’t be case if it happens again.”

She nodded and looked appropriately contrite, so he whirled on Vell next. “And you! I will not have you manhandle me, especially not in front of other soldiers.” He bit his lip, wondering if he really wanted to continue, but decided to barrel on ahead. “Unless I ask you to.”

Vell just looked confused. “What does ‘manhandle’ mean? Do Earth men have handles?”

Lance groaned and slapped a hand over his forehead. “Uh, it means to like, jerk around. When you were pulling me all over the room in front of Eshkith. Don’t do that.”

“Unless you ask me to, right?” Vell was smirking, and there was a glint in his eyes that Lance definitely shouldn’t have liked as much as he did. He considered a retort, but settled for a brief glare before turning back to Eshkith, pointedly ignoring the way Vell’s smirk broadened.

“I’m guessing you had a reason for coming in here other than being an obnoxious big sister?” Lance said, staring up at Eshkith with an expression just shy of being a glare. She coughed awkwardly into her hand, composing herself.

“Yes sir, Captain,” she said, holding out what looked like an electronic clipboard. Lance took it, staring at the Galra characters on the display with nothing even close to recognition. Vell leaned over his shoulder to whisper translations in his ear. “It’s a performance review of our latest mission, based on both your report, and mine.” Lance quirked an eyebrow up at her at that. It was the first he’d heard about her giving a report. She raised a hand to stave off any protests that Lance was thinking up. “Haggar was actually quite impressed by our abilities. To go up against the Voltron Paladins with no casualties is a remarkable feat, and such praise from her is exceptionally rare.”

“Probably ‘cause I’m on your side this time,” Lance mused, smirking as Vell continued translating. The review was in fact complimentary on the whole, but Lance didn’t miss a few quirks of wording that implied that their lack of failure was not seen wholly as a success. Returning without victory wouldn’t be tolerated a second time was the underlying message, and it didn’t slip past Lance. 

Eshkith nodded, unaware of Lance’s thought process. “That may very well be true, Captain. Their shock at seeing their former ally was likely a large factor in their disorganization, but we cannot rely on such a condition to repeat itself. As such, I would recommend-” she broke off, looking over Lance’s shoulder at Vell. Judging by the warm breath on his neck, Lance could guess the reason for Eshkith’s scandalized look. 

“That we advance our training schedule, right?” He suggested, knocking his head to the side to collide painfully with Vell’s. He made sure to use the top of his head as the impact point, and Vell gave a very satisfying squeak of pain as he recoiled from Lance’s shoulder. “I telegraphed that move, Vell. You have no one to blame but yourself.”

He chanced a look at Vell, and was completely thrown by the look on the Galra soldier’s face. Rather than the anger he’d expected, there was something very close to desire. _Do Galra court each other by headbutting?_ Searching for a safe place to look, he turned back to Eshkith just in time to see a brief glimpse of what seemed to be a similar expression before she covered it with a carefully crafted neutral look. _Madre de Dios, I am digging my own grave. Or is it making my own bed?_

He walked forward and pushed the not-clipboard back into Eshkith’s hands, making his way to the door. He ignored the insistent purring that seemed to suggest that he claim the both of them as his, simply gesturing for the two of them to follow him. They fell in step quickly, and the immediate obedience brought a smile to his face. “Eshkith, where are Kijur and Zeltra?”

“Still in the barracks to the best of my knowledge, though I believe that Kijur intended to make his way to the hangars, sir. He wanted to check on the repairs to our ships after the engagement with the Paladins.” There was a clipped tone to Eshkith’s voice that Lance didn’t miss, indicating that she was being particularly careful to hide something. Lance didn’t care to pick it apart at the moment, though he was pretty sure he knew what it was anyway.

The walk to the hangar itself was uneventful, though it occurred to Lance briefly that he didn’t feel as out of place in the dim purple hallways anymore. Perhaps it was the way his own dark armor mirrored the colors, or the way that the Galra now saluted as he passed instead of growling threateningly at him. _It was a nice change. A change that he deserved. I mean I. A change that I deserve._

The omnipresent purring got louder briefly in his head, then suddenly quieter. He almost brought his hand to his head but didn’t, conscious of the need to appear strong and in-control for his team. That need seemed more important than ever as the sound of shouting came from the hangar, and Lance rolled his eyes briefly before picking up his pace.

It was a good thing that he’d arrived sooner, rather than later. He’d expected Zeltra to be on the warpath, and was surprised to see that it was Kijur causing the scene. He was surrounded by a crowd of jeering Galra, squaring off against two other soldiers in full armor as opposed to Kijur’s engineer outfit. The two of them rushed him, coming in from the sides in an attempt to pin him down. Lance almost moved to interrupt, but stopped when he saw Zeltra on the side, simply watching. Why wasn’t she helping? Kijur was good in a melee, but against two other trained combatants, he wouldn’t stand a chance.

But as Kijur ducked beneath their strikes, grabbing their wrists and whirling to catch one in the throat with the heel of his foot, Lance was forced to reevaluate his opinion. Kijur didn’t miss a single beat, flowing expertly along his foe’s movements, striking quickly at any visible weakness. He’d never fought so deftly against Lance in training. Had he been holding back? Had they all been holding back against him?

Regardless of his subordinate’s alarming degree of martial prowess, a fight like this wasn’t something that Lance could allow. He walked forward and drew his Bayard, manifesting it as its bow form. He heard the gasps from the assembled mechanics and soldiers as he drew back the string, allowing the energy to gather in the bow for a brief second before loosing the arrow. It struck the ground between the three combatants, creating a bright flash and a loud noise against the metal floor that knocked all of them off-balance briefly.

“All right, that’s enough! What’s this all about?” He was channeling his former commanders again. Despite the fact that he was by far the shortest person in the room, each and every soldier seemed to hesitate, except, of course, for Zeltra.

“A couple of these _drelks_ were voicing their opinions about you, Captain. Kijur and I decided to teach them a lesson.” Zeltra’s voice was remarkably calm and even despite the use of particularly crude profanity, and when Lance looked over to her he realized why: there were three unconscious soldiers at her feet. _Which explains why she wasn’t helping Kijur_ , he thought ruefully. _She was waiting for him to finish his fight._

Lance held back a sigh, instead settling for a glare that he passed between Zeltra and Kijur. “Honestly, you two? I don’t care what they were saying about me. Nor do I particularly care what the usual rules are for settling disputes, I’m not gonna have my squad coming to blows with the rest of this fleet because of me!”

“But Captain, they-” 

Lance didn’t let Kijur finish, raising his hand. “No. No buts, no justifications, no _nothing_. I don’t care who started this, but I’m ending it. Both of you are coming with me, immediately.” His tone brooked no argument, and Zeltra pushed off the wall to join Eshkith and Vell behind him. Kijur spared one last glare for the other soldiers before moving to Lance.

“They refer to us as _Paladin’s Pets_ , sir. Say that we were a gift to you, because none of us would join you willingly.” Kijur was almost pouting, to the extent that Galra could pout, and Lance frowned.

“Is that true? Would you leave my squad, if given the chance?” Lance kept his face carefully neutral, unwilling to show how much the idea hurt.

Which made Kijur’s horrified expression very gratifying. “Absolutely not, sir! You’re...I wouldn’t trade this squad for anything.”

“Good!” Lance said, slapping a hand on Kijur’s shoulder. “Then ignore what they’re saying.” He turned to the milling soldiers, noticing how they were all intently listening and trying not to look like it. A smirk crossed his face. He had grown up with sisters, and knew how to fight without throwing punches. “At this point, they can’t help that they’re undisciplined.”

It was incredibly fun to watch an entire roomful of Galra bristle at being insulted, like introducing a spray bottle to a litter of cats. What he hadn’t expected was for Zeltra and Kijur to both take sharp gasps, and stare at him like he’d just shot someone. 

“What?” Lance asked, facing them.

“Captain…” Zeltra said, her voice uncharacteristically timid. “The soldiers we were fighting were Prorok’s. His direct command.”

Lance’s eyes widened. “So when I said they were undisciplined, I…”

“Directly insulted me, yes.”

Lance whirled to see Prorok standing in the hangar, his arms crossed and his mouth set in broad grin. _Which was somehow uglier than him frowning_ , Lance thought. “I guess it was, huh?” He said, unwilling to back down. Prorok may have been a general, but being a human in a Galra army meant that any act of perceived cowardice was basically suicide. 

Prorok nodded, uncrossing his arms and stepping towards Lance. “And that, by military code, allows me to challenge you to single combat, whelp,” he said, standing in front of Lance. He was tall, even for a Galra, and he towered over Lance easily. 

Eshkith stepped behind Lance, her hand on his shoulder. “Captain, you don’t have to do this. You can apologize for your words.”

“I would listen to the veteran, whelp. She’s survived many fights by knowing when to run.” Prorok made no effort to contain his voice, letting it bounce all over the hangar. A few of the assembled Galra laughed openly, and Lance turned to see Eshkith’s face fall in shame, her eyes turning to the floor.

 _Not about my team, you don’t._ The purring surged again, becoming a growl as he removed Eshkith’s hand from his shoulder. “Alright, General. Right here, right now. Any weapons? No weapons? You wanna go, big guy, let’s go!” He flung his arms to the side as he walked up to Prorok, intensely satisfied by the sight of the much larger Galra taking a few instinctive steps backwards. Prorok growled at the signs of aggression, taking a step towards Lance again. But they both knew that he’d already given up ground, and a smirk was firmly pressed to Lance’s face. 

“I like the sound of no weapons, whelp. Hand-to-hand combat, in the classic Galra fashion.” He turned and walked to the center of the room, pulling his sword out of his belt and carving a rough circle in the metal floor. “I trust you know the basic rules, or do I have to explain one of the oldest Galra traditions to you?”

Lance glared as he approached the circle. “Lemme guess, first to get knocked out loses?”

Prorok met his glare evenly, though there was an insulted edge to it. “Perhaps when children engage in this. The circle determines the combat area, yes, but only to designate where non-combatants may not enter. A victor is decided when one of us is unable to fight, but may continue as long as the victor wishes. This is our culture at its purest. Triumph, or death.”

Lance paled at that, and Prorok’s mouth spread into a wide, predatory grin. He’d just accepted a duel to the death? He turned to his squad, and saw similarly horrified expressions on their faces. Well, that was great. “Me and my big mouth,” he muttered to himself, turning back to his new foe.

Prorok was settling into what looked like a wrestling stance, and Lance was reminded harshly of their size difference. Prorok crouching was the same height as Lance standing. He took a deep breath and took a step inside the circle, willing his body to relax. Tension wouldn’t help him here.

As he assumed his stance, something stuttered in his head and time seemed to skip a beat. He didn’t even notice Prorok moving until a fist was buried in his stomach, the force of it picking him up off the ground and throwing him through the air. He landed heavily in a heap on the ground, groaning as he staggered back to his feet. Hands gripped his shoulders and shoved him back into the circle, and he began to realize that he’d made a terrible mistake.

Prorok lunged again the instant Lance was inside the circle, another rising punch that Lance just barely sidestepped. He danced to Prorok’s side, spinning as his foot lashed out in a roundhouse kick aimed at Prorok’s throat. He needed to end this fight, and fast. 

Which made it all the more disheartening when Prorok caught his ankle, lifting him bodily into the air and slamming him to the ground on his back. The impact shook through his entire body, and he was sure that at least one bone had broken. Mercifully, Prorok actually released his foot and stepped back, as though admiring his handiwork.

“Do you see now why we mock you, human? Do you understand how weak you are against the might of Galra? I could crush you with one hand around your puny head!” He laughed louder as Lance struggled to stand up, slowly circling around him. 

Something was wrong in his head. Lance couldn’t think straight, and it wasn’t just from the impact. Blue was fading in and out, growling one second and gone the next and back before he could think. It hurt terribly, his forehead pulsed and ached and he could barely see because his vision was fading in and out, the figures in front of him swimming and-

_Why am I in a room full of Galra?_

Lance’s mind seemed to snap into place, some missing piece moving back into alignment, and he was terrified. He was in front of some huge Galra, who was now lunging at him with his fist cocked back. _Boy, that’s not good._

Lance rolled to the side and sprang to his feet, barely dodging the blow. _What is going on here? Where am I?_ Memories danced on the edge of Lance’s mind, of traveling alone with Blue, of purple figures fighting alongside him, of kneeling before someone enormous, of fighting his friends, of shooting Keith.

“What’s the matter, human? Lost your nerve?” The huge Galra lunged again, and again Lance dove out of the way, yelping with fear. The other assembled Galra were laughing, except for four of them, standing at the front of the crowd. They were...his team? No, Keith and Shiro and Pidge and Hunk, those were his team, so why weren’t they…

A cry filled his mind, a sound of pure anguish and sorrow and regret. He clutched his head as the sound filled every part of him. Was that Blue? He couldn’t imagine what could possibly cause her such distress, unless she had noticed that he was literally about to die. 

The Galra was quick to take advantage of his current state, hunched over the floor. His foot came up in a powerful kick that caught Lance in the stomach, lifting him off the ground and sending him tumbling across the floor, nearly knocking over a few of the witnessing Galra. Bile rose in his throat from the impact, and he really hoped there was no internal bleeding. That would be hard to explain to Allura when he got…

He reached for the memories, watching them crystallize in his mind. He had betrayed his team, traveled to the Galra fleet, joined Zarkon, _he had hurt his friends_. He had gotten mad, thrown a tantrum, and now he was going to die for it. A few Galra came to grab him, throw him back in the circle, because he’d agreed to fight this monstrosity of a Galra to...to protect his new team. The one he’d chosen over Team Voltron. But they trusted him, they cared for him too, maybe they even loved him? His mind was getting foggy again, Blue’s cries of sorrow were quieting into gentle purrs, but then they surged again into shouts of rage.

Shouting that was audible in the hangar. No, that was coming from Lance, not from Blue. But as it grew louder in his mind, he couldn’t figure out where the line between them stood. He just knew that he had to survive, had to get back to the Castle _I’m already home_ , had to protect his team _which team I can’t remember_ , and he had to fight. 

He shook off the Galra that were holding him, his limbs surging with strength that he didn’t know he possessed, and he charged at Prorok _yes that’s his name makes sense_. His legs glowed with purple energy _god those aren’t my legs can’t think about that cry later_ and he slid under Prorok’s fist, his leg arcing through the air. It cleaved through Prorok’s armor easily, cutting open his breastplate as well as his chest, leaving a bloody gash in its wake. Prorok stumbled back, but Lance drove forward, overwhelmed with anger and hurt. He couldn’t tell whether it came from him or from Blue, but he felt it regardless, so it didn’t really matter. 

Prorok threw his fist forward, but Lance _Blue_ anticipated it. Their foot came up in a snap kick, glowing purple and slicing through his hand. A finger fell to the floor and painted the metal a deep crimson. Prorok gave a yell of anger and pain as he pulled his hand back, and Lance gave him no time to recover. His mind flooded with memories that weren’t his own, techniques he’d never learned as he threw his body to the side, whirling into a spinning kick that connected with Prorok’s head. The massive Galra fell to the ground with a deafening thud as Lance righted himself.

The Galra was struggling to get up, was vulnerable, but Lance’s head was surging again with growls and memories and thoughts that he couldn’t separate, couldn’t tell which were actually his. _Kill them_ , they said, _Hurt them like they hurt us break them like they broke us they hurt you they used me to hurt you I am sorry my poor cub my dear Paladin I could not protect you._

He didn’t see Prorok coming until it was too late. A hand gripped the back of his head, and what felt like a train locomotive crashed against his face. The impact threw him onto his back, sprawled on the ground and groaning. The thoughts screamed at him and roaring surged over him in waves, but he couldn’t get up. He was tired, he was a traitor, and it would be so much easier to just let Prorok kill him now. 

Which begged the question: why hadn’t Prorok already killed him? Lance lifted his head, a task that felt Herculean to his exhausted body, and saw four of the Galra standing in front of him, growling at Prorok. They were yelling, something about Galra law and protecting, but Lance found that he couldn’t listen. His consciousness was drifting in and out, and he just couldn’t keep his eyes open. The last thing he remembered before surrendering to sleep was the sound of Blue’s crying.

* * *

The sensation, Haggar thought, was rather like that of someone plunging a frozen dagger into her limb. She’d only experienced that particular feeling once, but it wasn’t the kind of experience one forgot easily.

Her eyes roved over the crystal pillar that served as her scrying window, control center, and database all at once. Was such a thing possible? Could the venom’s influence be resisted? She passed a hand over the crystal, turning back the image of the boy fighting against Prorok.

Her eyes narrowed at the thought of his grandstanding. The very idea of a general engaging in petty duels was enough to turn her stomach, but to do so against her own experiment? To jeopardize this, one of her most sensitive and most profitable ventures? She would need to find a way to suitably reprimand him.

But her thoughts of vengeance fell away when she found what she was looking. Right there, when the boy fell over and clutched his head like something was trying to escape. Her control over him had stuttered, the Blue Lion slipped away from her, and his behavior had shifted. He had surged again afterwards, but not by her volition. She had always made to make his behavior efficient and ruthless to match her image of the perfect soldier, and while that still existed as he rose back up against Prorok, there was something else to it. Something feral. 

She would need to check on the Blue Lion. Even under constant monitoring and containment, it was nearly impossible to predict what those blasted Altean devices were capable of. Their ‘thoughts’, if they could be called that, were undetectable by any Galran devices, even after studying the Red Lion for millennia. 

Perhaps, a traitorous part of her brain suggested, she had bitten off more than she could chew with this one. Perhaps the Blue Lion and her Paladin were stronger than she expected, or at least more stubborn. If this experiment were to fail, she wasn’t convinced that she’d be able to recover in the eyes of her Emperor.

So, she simply had to avoid failure. She would destroy the boy’s mind, break the Blue Lion beneath her heel, and mold them both into perfect soldiers. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by a dim alarm from one of her crystals. The Saboteur again? Perhaps that would be a good project for her Cub to work on while she found efficient ways to break him. It made a sort of poetic sense in her mind. Sending a human to catch a human.

* * *

Lance remembered when dreams were a source of comfort. Back on the Castle of Lions, his dreams had been memories of home, of days spent in his brother’s surf shack, of afternoons spent on the scorching sand of the beach, of nights spent lighting fireworks in his grandmother’s backyard. They had brought him solace in the empty desolation of space, away from nearly everyone he’d ever loved.

These dreams were not so kind. Twisting maelstroms of color and emotion, the dreams were of him thrusting his blade into pools of color as they splashed and stained him. Black, yellow, red, green, he knew that they had betrayed him, had hurt him, and he had to hurt them in return. It wasn’t something he wanted to do; he was compelled to, couldn’t stop his arm as he scattered the colors _blood_ over the ground, was watching himself do it as much as he was doing it, horrified and gratified to see them hurt like he did.

It wasn’t until the pools of color coalesced into bodies that he realized what he was doing.

He woke with a start, trying to bolt upright but held down by heavy blankets. Warm, breathing blankets. _Wait, that’s not right._ His groggy mind attempted to catch up with reality, blearily looking around in an attempt to process what he was seeing. Because from what he knew of reality, it sure didn’t make sense to wake up as the middle of a pile of Galra.

Eshkith was the first to notice that he’d woken, blushing a deep purple but making no attempt to actually remove herself from the pile. “Ah, Captain! I, um, see that you’ve awoken.” She was laying over his legs on the edge of the pile, and it made sense to Lance that she’d have been one of the last to join it. Kijur had draped himself over his lap and seemed to be purring in his sleep. Zeltra was pressed against his shoulder, her arms over him and her face pressed against his neck. That still left one unaccounted for…

When the pillow his back was pressed against rose and fell with steady breaths, he realized where Vell was. He stared at Eshkith with his mind warring between embarrassment and happiness. “Yeah, I...what happened? Why didn’t Prorok kill me?”

Eshkith looked curiously relieved. “So you remember the duel, that’s good. We were afraid that the blunt trauma to your head would have had severe effects, but your human physiology seems remarkably adept at healing wounds. I would recommend against touching your nose for a few days, though.”

“My nose?!” Lance squeaked, bringing his hand up instinctively. He pulled it away when he felt his face jolt with pain, groaning as he fell back against Vell’s chest. “God, is it broken?”

Eshkith looked up at him with a level of concern in her face that he hadn’t expected. “It is, but Kijur reset the bone while you were unconscious. I do not believe that it will leave any permanent damage.”

That was a relief. With that weight off his mind, he realized that she’d attempted to deflect him. “You didn’t answer my question, Eshkith.”

“He didn’t kill you because we protected you, Captain,” Zeltra said, her breath warm against his neck. He tensed slightly at the unfamiliar sensation, but she didn’t seem to notice. “We weren’t gonna let that _drelk_ kill you.” There was an odd element of venom in her voice, but it was distinct from her usual vitriol. Or maybe it was just the way she was clinging to his shoulders. It was really hard to think with how close she was to him.

It didn’t get any easier to think when Vell’s arms wound around his waist, or when he felt Vell’s chin on his shoulder. “Is that something that you should have done?” Lance asked, fixing his eyes on Eshkith. “He and I agreed that it would be between the two of us, and he even specified that non-combatants weren’t allowed in the circle. You won’t be punished, right?”

“It was Zeltra’s idea,” Kijur said, stretching out over Lance’s lap before curling back in on himself. “But Eshkith came up with a great excuse. We’re probably fine, her law jargon sounded legit.”

Lance cocked an eyebrow at Eshkith, silently demanding an explanation. “It was something of a hobby of mine, Captain. I would read the histories and take note of laws and traditions that seemed interesting. I always had particular interest in the laws of dueling, back when it was more common. Gladiatorial law was also fascinating!” Her eyes were locked with Lance’s, and there was an energy in her words that he’d never heard before.

He leaned forward, despite Vell and Zeltra’s whining at being displaced. “Gladiatorial law, huh? What kinda stuff is that?” Something in the back of his mind pricked; didn’t he know someone who’d been in the arena? But Blue’s purring drove it out of his mind. 

“It’s actually remarkably complex!” Eshkith said, leaning over Kijur, who whined as she put her weight on him. “There used to be a vast number of different rules and regulations put in place to maintain the performance of the gladiators, if not their actual well-being. A lot of laws have changed of course, but some of them remain on the record. One of the most interesting, in my opinion, was the ability for gladiators or prisoners of war to challenge the Emperor himself to single combat! If they won, they were granted their freedom.”

“If someone beat Zarkon? That seems kinda farfetched, don’t you think?” Lance leaned back, enjoying the sight of Eshkith betraying actual passion in a subject. He still thought she’d make an excellent gardener, but the growing image in his mind of her as a lawyer was also interesting.

She shrugged. “It’s never happened in the recorded history of the Galra Empire, and in fact prisoners are no longer even informed of it, but it’s still a fascinating aspect. I theorize that it was originally designed as a display of power by Zarkon, claiming that he would personally fight any challengers.”

Lance stretched out, dislodging Vell and Zeltra momentarily before they went right back to their original positions. “So, what loophole did you use to keep me from dying? Not that I’m ungrateful, because not being dead is pretty great, but I’m still curious.” The entire squad tensed when he mentioned his own death, and he wondered what he had done to inspire such loyalty in them.

“In the event of imminent danger to one’s immediate commanding officer, a Galra squad is given free reign to take whatever actions they deem necessary to protect their life,” Eshkith recited, looking to the side. “This includes, but is not limited to, confronting or restraining a superior officer. Our culture has always had a significant amount of emphasis placed on family, and pack, and one’s loved ones. This law was a way to condone the protection of one’s own. It’s rarely invoked, but I didn’t have a much of a choice when Zeltra started growling in Prorok’s face.”

The jab had little heat in it, but Zeltra growled at Eshkith in response anyway. “‘S’not my fault,” she muttered, leaning further into Lance’s collarbone. His face was burning with a blush that could probably be seen from Earth. “I don’t like when the people I love are threatened.” 

There was no way that Lance could let that go. “Whatever happened to you, what was it, ‘exposing my weaknesses to the Emperor?” She stiffened at the teasing, and Lance felt more than heard a soft chuckle from Vell.

“It was you who jumped the Captain on his first day here? I remember hearing about that,” Kijur said sleepily, lifting his head to grin at Zeltra. She growled back in response, still clinging protectively to Lance.

Eshkith cut in before things could escalate. “All right, both of you, that’s enough. Now that Lance is awake, we need to get back to work. Haggar isn’t going to accept that we took a day off to…” Lance could see her struggling to think of a word that wasn’t ‘cuddle’, and failing, “cuddle. This is hardly appropriate behavior for a war band.” 

Vell squeezed Lance a little tighter, a grin pulling across his face. “Why Eshkith, referring to the Captain by name? How insubordinate of you.” Eshkith’s eyes widened as she realized her mistake, though the embarrassment lasted only a second before it turned into a glare.

“Okay, okay, I get the picture. Guys, all of you off.” Vell and Zeltra protested as Lance pushed them away, but obeyed after only a small pause. Kijur was more trouble, as he was clearly set on falling asleep again on Lance’s legs, and could only be moved by a joint effort from Eshkith and Vell.

“Vell, Zeltra, Kijur, go retrieve our equipment. I expect to see you ready to go in the training room in no less than fifteen minutes.” Lance attempted to put that particular note of command in his voice. It seemed to work, as all three saluted and ran off to do as he said. He turned to Eshkith, noting a certain stiffness in her posture distinct from her usual military rigidity. “Is there something you want to say?”

She nodded a little tersely, her eyes darting to the side before settling on Lance. “It’s about a new assignment from Haggar. Something inside the fleet itself.”

Lance frowned a little at that. “Inside the fleet? What, are we auditors now?”

“I don’t know what that word means, so, possibly. Regardless, we’re tasked with finding someone within the fleet; an escaped prisoner that we’ve come to refer to as ‘the Saboteur’. We’re uncertain of his actual name.” She was reciting mission details from another electronic clipboard, so Lance knew the mission was legit, but something struck him as odd.

“An escaped prisoner? What species?” 

Eshkith’s eyes fell briefly from Lance’s, her equivalent of a full-body wince. “That’s the thing, Captain. According to the report, we have reason to believe that the Saboteur is human.”

“A human?!” Lance practically screeched, his composure utterly broken and his arms flailing for emphasis. “But, when have the Galra ever captured humans?! They didn’t attack Earth, did they?”

Eshkith seemed thoroughly thrown by his outburst, and placed her hand on his shoulder in a half-hearted calming gesture. “As far I am aware, we have not made any plans to invade Earth, no. This must have been a prisoner that we’ve had for some time, I imagine. I just wanted to make sure that I was the one to give you the mission details, to ensure that…” she trailed off, but Lance could get her meaning well enough.

“That I didn’t blow up like that in front of Haggar? Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” She nodded again, far less tense this time, and Lance sighed. He reached up to stretch and felt his body protest loudly and painfully, though he went through with the stretch anyway. It wouldn’t do for a Galra Captain to surrender to the whims of their body. “What say we go put the squad through their paces?”

A grin spread across Eshkith’s face. “That sounds wonderful, Captain. Perhaps it will get Vell and Zeltra to stop thinking inappropriately of you, though I doubt it.”

She walked away, pointedly ignoring his indignant squawk. He allowed himself to pout for another second before following her, feeling a smile pull at his lips. 

He wouldn’t trade this squad for the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you all for reading this far! Your support and feedback have been absolutely amazing, and I hope that I'm living up to your expectations!


	11. I'll Come Back For You Love, I Promise To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Pidge and Keith have come very close to breaking something, Allura allows herself to be vulnerable, and the group gets something that resembles hope again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I apologize for the long and impromptu hiatus, but I'm back in business now! I hope that I haven't lost too many of you, and for those of you who are still with me, I want to extend a heartfelt thanks! Without further ado, enjoy!

“Pidge, I need you to calm down and start again from the beginning, I cannot understand a single word you’re saying.” Allura’s even voice echoed gently through the bridge, barely softened by the few bodies within the room. It still tugged at her heart that even with their entire crew in the command deck, there were only seven of them. _Six now_ , she ruefully reminded herself. She felt her mask of authority slip ever so slightly at the thought, but knew that only Coran would have caught it. 

Pidge took a few deep, calming breaths, and Keith laid his hand on her shoulder in support. They seemed to have grown tremendously close in the past few weeks, Allura noted. She was just glad that they were able to find solace in each other.

“I think that I’ve pinpointed the reason behind Lance’s behavior. His disappearance, his betrayal, everything.” Pidge tapped a few keys on her station’s console, bringing up a slowly rotating image of the Blue Paladin armor. Hunk winced at the sight, but Pidge looked straight at Keith and nodded. “Do you see these crystals here, and here? Allura, you and I have been trying to figure out what those are. You’ve noted a few times that they bear passing resemblances to ship crystals, but always brushed it off because of the vast difference in their energy signatures. But Keith brought it up again yesterday, and I realized that we’d been missing a key component.”

Allura walked closer to the image of the armor, the crystal veins looking so much like grievous wounds on the surface of its metal. “You’re being melodramatic again, Pidge. What is it that we were missing?”

A self-satisfied smirk drew across Pidge’s face, causing Allura to realize how alike she and Lance could be at times. “That it actually _is_ a ship crystal. Specifically, it’s a Balmeran crystal that’s been altered by Galra Druid magic.” Allura saw Shiro tense at the statement, but her attention was otherwise focused on Pidge. “We didn’t realize the similarities because I hadn’t been able to examine the Galra crystal that we had from Sendak. Keith and I think that the Galra are using that to control Lance the way that they controlled the Castle.”

“But that’s not possible!” Hunk shouted, his arms flailing emphatically. “You can’t control a human brain like a computer, it just doesn’t work that way! Besides, unless they injected Lance while we weren’t looking, he didn’t have those crystals in him when he left!”

“They didn’t have to inject him, Hunk,” Keith said patiently, his eyes never leaving the image of the armor. “Do you remember that bulky ship that ran into the Blue Lion?” Hunk nodded, and Keith’s face set in a grimace. “We think it infected the Lion.”

The statement hung in the air, and Allura felt a chill run down her spine. The scarred visage of crystal-ridden metal stared down at her as she realized the true implications of this situation. If the Galra could infect the Lions with the same venom that had infected the Castle, had poisoned her mind, nearly caused her to drive them all into a dying star…

Shiro’s voice pulled Allura from her spiraling thoughts. “That’s not the whole story, is it? What more did you learn?” His arms were crossed over his chest in what seemed to be pre-emptive disapproval, and Allura couldn’t help a small smile. 

“I learned that the control can be disrupted. Whatever bond exists between Paladins can interfere with the signals being sent from Blue to Lance. So, using this, I think we can-”

“How did you learn of this?” Allura interrupted, her mind clouding with concern. Pidge’s understanding of what she considered “alien” technology was limited at best, but that rarely seemed to stop her from meddling in whatever she could reach with her small human arms.

Her suspicions were proven correct when Pidge flushed and turned aside before answering. “I...may have touched the crystals on the armor. I didn’t have any idea how to interact with that kind of material, and my tools were limited, so I went with my gut!” Her hands were up in front of her in defense against the many things Allura wanted to say, but Keith beat her to it.

“I touched it, too.” Allura’s mouth dropped open in shock, as did Shiro’s. “Whatever Pidge was doing, I didn’t want her to do it alone. And…” Keith trailed off, his gaze falling to the floor. Allura looked questioningly at Pidge, who seemed just as suddenly somber.

“It was awful,” Pidge said, her voice small and quiet. “We touched it, and...I think we got a taste of whatever it is that’s happening to Lance. He was so scared, and in so much pain.”

Hunk’s eyes were gleaming with tears just ready to burst, and Allura braced herself for the outburst that was coming. “You mean that...that really is Lance?! Who shot Keith and beat up Shiro and tried to kill us and is working with Zarkon and tried to make me go with him and who...who…” Hunk’s words were lost in a stream of tears as Coran moved to comfort him, but Allura stopped paying attention. 

“What were you two thinking?!” Shiro’s voice cut through Hunk’s sobbing, and both Keith and Pidge stiffened at his tone. “If you did interrupt whatever control the Galra have over him, if you made them think for a second that he was no longer useful, he might be dead right now!” Even Allura jumped at Shiro’s tone as he advanced on Pidge and Keith, anger rolling off of him in waves that had the two nearly cowering. 

“We needed to know what we could-”

Shiro didn’t let Pidge finish. “What you needed was to think about your actions! You have no idea what effect that had on him, and if he was engaged in combat, or with Haggar or Zarkon, or anywhere that wasn’t alone and in bed, you could have just cost him his life, and cost us our only chance at saving him.” Allura looked between him and Pidge and Keith’s faces, noting the fear and shame evident in their eyes.

“Shiro, I think that’s enough. They understand.” Her voice was quiet, but carried enough weight to give Shiro pause. He looked back at her, and she saw far more than just anger there. He was terrified, and she knew exactly why; they had already lost Lance once, and going through it again would break them all. 

She breathed deeply. She was shattering inside, but couldn’t let it show. Between Shiro’s fear, Pidge and Keith’s recklessness, and Hunk’s tidal wave of emotion, it fell to her to be the stable pillar here. She could let herself fall apart later. 

“Pidge, Hunk.” They straightened up, looking at her hesitantly. She made sure to meet their gazes cautiously. “I need you to examine this crystal, _without_ touching it this time. Find a way to disrupt whatever signal it’s broadcasting to Lance, and we’ll find a way to get him back. Keith, quiznack, get to a healing pod. Your wrist is still hurt, and you’re not thinking clearly. Shiro, Coran, I need you two to find a way to get a message through to the Galra fleet, specifically, to Lance.”

“We got Lance’s helmet back on Z-Seven, so we can use that to get a message to their fleet, or maybe even just to his specific frequency if we’re careful,” Coran said, already running through scenarios. “But what do you plan to do, Princess?”

She’d been hoping that no one would notice her lack of tasks for herself. “I’m going to be composing our message to them.” _And maybe falling apart a little_ , she admitted to herself. No reason to say that aloud. Coran seemed to understand anyway, nodding as he led Shiro off the bridge. Pidge and Hunk followed, their heads still hanging. They clearly still needed guidance, but she couldn’t find the strength to give it to them. How could she give them reassurance when she could barely keep herself from breaking?

She breathed a sigh of relief as they left, allowing herself a moment of calm before realizing that Keith was still in the room. Her eyes widened as she attempted to sputter out an excuse for her brief break in composure. “Uh, Keith! I, um, why haven’t you gone to the healing pods? You know that-”

He raised a hand to cut her off, and she paused long enough for him to get a word in. “You don’t think this is going to work.”

That simple statement nearly destroyed her. “What? Th-that’s absurd, of course I...there’s, there’s no reason not to…” She trailed off as Keith stared her down, and her resolve crumbled.

She turned away from him, unable to meet his eyes as the truth began pouring out of her mouth. “When the ship was infected by this, by the exact same affliction if Pidge is correct...the only cure was death. My father’s AI was irreparably damaged, and the ship was at low power for days afterward.” She paused, and Keith picked up the slack.

“You think this situation is gonna end the same way? That Lance can’t be saved.” Keith didn’t sound worried at all, though she had always found his emotions to be the hardest to decode. Despite not looking at him, she could perfectly envision the glare that he was surely wearing. Like if he glared at her long enough she’d stop worrying. She wondered if that had ever worked for him.

She took a breath before answering, attempting to compose her thoughts. It didn’t work well. “Stars above, I hope that I’m wrong. But I’m working with limited information here.” She turned to face him, and was met with the exact glare that she’d imagined. “In our only recorded case of this affliction, I was unable to save any trace of my father. But Lance wasn’t directly infected with it, we don’t think. If that’s the case, then with sufficient distance from the source, he should be fine.”

His glare eased, replaced by a tilted head that spoke of confusion. “I don’t think I get it. If Lance is gonna be okay, why are you worried?”

“I think he will be. But with the poison corrupting the bond between him and his Lion, I fear that…” She trailed off, unable to complete the thought. Whether for her own sake or for Keith’s she couldn’t quite tell.

Keith’s eyes widened in realization. “You don’t think he’ll be able to pilot Blue anymore? That he’ll...that we won’t be able to fly together.”

“I don’t know!” She said, the words escaping in an outburst of emotion that forced Keith back a step. “There’s no precedent for any of this! I’ve never heard of the Voltron lions being poisoned, or tampered with, or altered in any way. And now, this is happening, and it’s hurting a Paladin in a way that I could never have expected, and-”

She broke off suddenly, noticing Keith’s open expression of fear and pity. She shut her mouth with an almost audible sound, hoping that it covered up the way her bottom lip was trembling. She couldn’t lose control, not in front of a Paladin, not ever. She wiped frantically at her eyes with the heels of her palms, digging them into her eyes until she saw stars in her vision. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. Keith, you should be in the healing pod right now, I don’t think that-”

Arms wrapped around her, cutting her off. She gasped and reopened her eyes, seeing Keith stand awkwardly in front of her, his arms gripping her tightly. It felt almost aggressive, like he planned to throw her to the ground, but the scarlet blush on his face suggested otherwise. “Um…” she ventured eloquently, and Keith’s eyes darted up to her face, then back down to the floor.

“I just thought...you looked like you needed a hug. I’m sorry that I’m bad at it,” Keith said, releasing her. He shuffled awkwardly in front of her, looking so pitiful that a sudden rush of affection ran through Allura.

She moved to him, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing tightly, as if expecting him to bolt. _Which isn’t wholly unreasonable_ , she thought as she pulled him in tighter. He was stiff in her arms at first, but relaxed quickly. His hands moved to her back, and and squeezed her in return.

“We’re going to be okay, Keith. Both of us. And Lance, too, I swear it.” She wasn’t sure if she was reassuring him or herself, but he nodded into her shoulder, and she pretended not to feel the dampness on her sleeve.

“It’s just been...I can’t even keep up anymore,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “Just yesterday morning we thought he was dead, and then we learned he was in charge of a Galra team because he _wanted_ to be there, and now we know he’s being controlled so we really haven’t lost him at all. Except Pidge and I may have screwed that up.”

Allura stayed quiet for a moment, taking in the fact that Keith willingly opened up to her, and nodded against his head. “What you and Pidge did, you did out of love. Out of concern for him, and out of the hope that maybe it would fix something. And what you found was astonishing.” Keith stared up at her with wide eyes, and she knew she was getting to him. “If what you felt was fear, then that means that Lance is still inside there, somewhere.”

She placed her hands around his face, cradling him gently. “We can still hope, Keith. Hope that Lance won’t stop fighting, that he’s still in there, and that he wants to return to us. And if any of us can reach him, I know that you can.” She pressed her forehead to his, brushing away his tears with her thumbs. “We’re so close now. We have only a little left to do.”

Keith nodded against her. He reached up take hold of her wrists, gripping them tightly for support before lifting his head. His eyes, though rimmed with red from his tears, were bright with determination. It brought a smile to her face that was far more genuine than any had been in recent days.

“You’ve known for a long time, huh?” The sound of his voice jerked Allura back to the present. Keith was looking at her with something rueful in his eyes. Or maybe rueful wasn’t the right word...sheepish? She’d heard Pidge use that word, though she had no idea what a sheep was.

“Known about what?” She asked, knowing full well what he was talking about. He grimaced in response, and she chuckled. “About your feelings for Lance?”

He nodded, but showed no signs of talking, so Allura did so for him. “Yes, I have. Human courtship seemed rather strange to me as I watched the two of you, though I got the impression that what you and Lance were doing wasn’t the standard process.” 

“Far from it,” Keith said with a note of bitterness in his voice. “I don’t think Lance even noticed I liked him. Not that I can really blame him.” He had let go of her wrists at some point, and his gaze fell to the floor. 

Not that Allura was going to leave them there. She reached down to grab his hands, gathering them in hers. “Well, that sounds like something you’ll have to fix when we get him back!” He looked up at her, slowly, and there was something like the beginning of hope in his eyes. It wasn’t much, but she’d take it. “When we get him back, promise me that you’ll tell him. You both deserve it.”

She held his gaze until he nodded slowly, his cheeks flushed a dim pink. Keith was surprisingly cute when he was embarrassed, Allura noted with no small amount of delight. “In fact,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper, “I’d be more than happy to give you some pointers on Altean courtship, if you’d like.” 

The way that Keith’s blush rose up to his ears was delightful, and Allura couldn’t restrain a small giggle at the sight. He scowled in response, as if trying to force the reaction back by sheer willpower. It didn’t work. “I’ll, uh, keep that in mind,” he said with no small amount of hesitation. He cast his eyes about awkwardly for a moment before Allura recognized his desire to escape, and released his hands.

“Go get some rest, Keith. And for goodness’ sake, get yourself in a healing pod! You’ll be of no help in rescuing Lance if you can’t use one of your hands.” He ran from the room as she scolded him, though she couldn’t keep a fond smile from her face as he left. She took a moment to enjoy the happiness that she could squeeze from the brief interaction, recognizing the significance of the trust that Keith had put in her.

But the moment, like all others, had to end eventually. She returned to the central console, passing her hand through the air to activate the holographic keyboard. A few more quick strokes brought up the central database, and from there it was easy to access the video logs from the Paladin armor. Her hand hovered over the section that would access the Blue Armor’s logs, but refrained. She’d tried that before, and whatever had affected Lance and the Blue Lion had wiped the logs completely.

Instead, she simultaneously accessed the Red, Black, and Yellow Armor feeds, watching the battle against the Galra squad leader they now knew to be Lance. She brought a hand to her chin thoughtfully as she studied his movements, observing this martial art that Hunk had called ‘capoeira’. It was fluid and dynamic, more of a dance to Allura’s eyes than what she’d seen Shiro or Keith practice. It was also strangely familiar to her eyes, and she realized that it was strangely reminiscent of Altean martial arts. It seemed like only months ago that she’d seen her sister practice it, and her hand moved to her mouth to stifle an unexpected sob.

Composing herself again, she went back to the recording. She refused to skip past the parts where Lance spoke, telling herself that it was important that she listen to it. She had wronged one of her Paladins, one who was supposed to be her family; she would never make that mistake again, and she would atone for what she had already done.

_“Stop fighting a losing battle, ‘cause Zarkon is onto something here!”_

She had difficulty believing that it was actually Lance saying that. How many times had she heard him express genuine sorrow at the plight of the worlds under Zarkon’s control? Even as early in their career as the Balmera, he had shown his disgust for the Galra and their destructive ways. 

_“I’m tired of being pushed around by him, and Allura, and everyone else on that crummy ship!”_

She couldn’t help it; she turned away when Lance tried to shoot Keith. To pull a trigger in cold blood at point-blank on your ally, your friend...what was he going through? Who would he be if - no, when they retrieved him? 

With that thought weighing heavily on her mind, Allura watched the remainder of the logs with stony silence. She heard Hunk’s panicked breathing as Lance ran into the forest, she could hear Shiro’s confusion as Lance revealed himself, she could practically feel Keith’s desperation as he confessed his feelings to Lance. And then, most interestingly, there was a moment where Allura could see Lance return to himself for a brief time. 

She almost wept with relief. He _was_ in there, and he was still fighting. They still had a chance to get him back, and she could feel the weight of hopelessness fall off her shoulders with that realization. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she made no move to wipe them aside as she set the recordings to play again. Every moment had to be analyzed, every behavior picked apart for weaknesses in the Galra’s control over Lance. As she watched, she began composing a message in her head, something guaranteed to get his attention. She would only get one chance at this, and it had to be perfect.

Allura had lost her entire planet before. Her family, her life, her world all burned to rubble before her eyes, irretrievable to the uncaring passage of time. She would not, would _never_ allow the Galra to take from her again. She would retrieve Lance, and would protect him from their grasp.

Even if she had to do so with her own hands. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, it's good to be back. I hope that y'all enjoyed this! I certainly did, and I'm going to enjoy finishing off this story. We're more than halfway to the end! Thank you all for sticking with me, your presence and your feedback really means the world to me!

**Author's Note:**

> My Tumblr, should you wish to come yell at me, is [right here!](http://disappointedcheesecake.tumblr.com/)
> 
> And I've gotten fanart for this! It can be seen right [right here!](http://disappointedcheesecake.tumblr.com/post/152203398936/koshkavinni-i-ended-up-getting-really-sucked) Please go reblog it if you like it!


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